Don't Know Why, Just Do
by thefooliam
Summary: Brittany doesn't really know a lot of things but she was so sure of that one.
1. Chapter 1

**Fic**:Don't Know Why (Just Do)

**Characters**: Brittany S. Pierce, Santana Lopez, Sam Evans, Maribel Lopez, Rachel Berry, Kurt Hummel & Sugar Motta

**Rating**: R/NC-17

**Summary**: _Brittany doesn't really know a lot of things but she was so sure of that one._

* * *

It ends on a Monday.

Just any normal average Monday—

Except...

...Mondays aren't normal or average anymore.

They haven't been since that weird week in August when Santana left and it felt like Brittany's world cartwheeled upside down, making her dizzy and not entirely sure which way was up and which way was down.

/

(If Mondays aren't normal then, Brittany's not sure what they are now.

Wrong, maybe.

She doesn't really know the words to explain.)

/

She's there waiting for Brittany when she gets out of cheerios practice, pacing backwards and forwards in the parking lot, hooded sweatshirt too baggy over her Cards uniform.

There's a cigarette tucked between her fingers and that's how Brittany knows that something's wrong.

Something's bad.

Something's really bad.

/

(Bad. That's the word. Mondays are bad.

Maybe worse than bad.

She's not sure.)

/

Still, Brittany hasn't seen her girlfriend in weeks and she can't ignore the fact that she's over-the-moon happy to see her.

Probably more than that.

Dancing-around-a-milky-way happy is definitely a better way to explain it.

They weren't supposed to be seeing each other for another couple of weeks, for their anniversary celebrations, but Santana's here right in front of her and she's not going to question that.

She wraps her arms around Santana and tugs her in closer, clutches her closely and presses her nose into dark hair. It smells just like it always does when Santana hasn't washed it yet, like day-old shampoo and sweat. She's so lost in that smell she doesn't realize that Santana's pushing her away...

...that she isn't smiling.

Instead, she tosses the cigarette to the floor, and doesn't stub it out, before she grabs Brittany by the wrist instead of the hand and drags her back into the school.

It's late enough that there's no one in the hallways and Brittany's sure that Santana has some magical song planned to sing to her when she drags her to the choir room.

But the lights are off and Santana only flicks the switches so that half the rooms lit up as she guides Brittany to the chairs and urges her to sit down. Then, she paces the floor again and toys with something in her pocket nervously. She shows Brittany all her tells that this is important, that this is big, but Brittany can't think of anything big enough to warrant her actions until—

The sobs leave Santana so abruptly that, at first, Brittany thinks she's sick and throwing up.

It isn't until she sees the thick and fast tears that it really registers. She says Santana's name as she rises from her chair but Santana's own words cut through it quickly.

"I slept with someone."

/

(Confusing.

Confusing would be a good word.)

/

Something in Brittany jolts but she swallows it back, desperate to remain calm, collected, to not assume anything.

Jumping to conclusions is what gets you Fs on your math papers and teachers asking you why you don't listen.

"Oh. Okay," she says, trying not to let her voice shake. She tries to imagine sleepovers with fellow cheerleaders and Santana accidentally falling asleep in someone else's bed. It would be just like Santana to worry about something so silly. "No problem."

She shrugs as Santana looks up at her with wide eyes.

Santana scoffs in disbelief. "Brittany, are you listening to me?" she asks, her voice struggling. Brittany pauses but then she nods. Santana steps closer and shakes her head. "Britt, I had sex with someone else."

Brittany's face falls.

/

(Excruciating.

Yeah. That's it.

That's the word.)

/

"You... You..." Brittany shakes her head. "What?"

Santana's legs wobble a little as her hands go up to her face, shielding it from Brittany as she sobs wholeheartedly.

Brittany watches her curiously.

Shouldn't she be doing that?

Crying.

Santana eventually looks up, tears coating her face and hanging off her nose. She straightens her back, stubborn and strong.

"I had sex with someone else," she chokes. "Her name was—was Cara. She's—she's in my business class. I met her at a party and I got drunk and we just—" Brittany flinches. Santana sees it and stops talking instantly. Her head shakes. "I'm so sorry."

Brittany looks down at her hands and notices that they're shaking. She laughs a little and then stops, her head shaking from side to side slowly because she doesn't get it.

She doesn't understand why she feels so stupid.

"I thought..." she whispers except she doesn't know what she thought.

She stands instead and her legs feel like she's been at practice all day instead of an hour or two. Santana steps towards her quickly and, for the first time since they met and fell in love, Brittany puts a hand out to stop her before she can touch her.

She shakes her head and feels the first of the lumps that grow in her throat.

"I can't do this," she admits quietly and it's weird when Santana nods.

It's the first time that Santana hasn't made her feel sure that she can do anything.

That must mean something.

It feels weird to be the one that walks away.

/

She calls Sam.

He comes over within ten minutes and he watches her curiously as she stays quiet, just follows her up to her room.

She likes that about Sam.

He never rushes her.

It takes her a little while but eventually she swallows and lets her eyes flutter closed.

"Santana had sex with somebody else," she whispers softly.

Sam's face falls and then his brow furrows. Brittany feels the lump in her throat growing so big that it feels like she can't breathe.

"She..." Sam starts softly and then she feels him move to sit closer to where she lies on her bed. He touches her hand softly. "She cheated on you?" he asks and it's almost like he can't believe it.

Brittany can't either. Now that it's been voiced, that it's been explained—Santana _cheated _on her—Brittany can't really believe it at all.

Somewhere deep down inside of her, she thought that all the hard stuff was over.

Well, the important hard stuff. Passing high school was just a bump in the road. It would be easy second time around and then they'd be together and then—

The tears overcome her just like they'd overcome Santana. They choke out of her and sound like she's throwing them up except she does throw up, her body throwing itself over the side of her bed until she can reach for the waste paper basket and empty her stomach into it.

Sam rubs her back and her mom comes to see if she's okay but the tears don't stop. She just keeps crying and crying and crying and it feels like there's something missing in her chest when she tries to think about it. She sobs and sobs until it hurts to but her body still cries. Sam holds her, his huge boy hands pressing to her aching stomach muscles as he spoons her from behind.

He feels so different to Santana that Brittany thinks that probably makes her feel worse

/

She wakes up in the middle of the night, her cheeks still wet and her stomach aching. Sam's still behind her, arms wrapped around her, but she pays no attention to him because all she can think about is Santana.

She's surprised she doesn't feel angry or upset about what she done.

She just feels sort of lost and her mind repeats the same thing over and over again:

_We were supposed to be together_.

Brittany doesn't really know a lot of things but she was so sure of that one.

She squashes her eyes closed and tries to push the words away but they won't leave her.

The scary thing is that she doesn't think they ever will.

/

The even scarier thing is that Santana hasn't tried to call her.

She goes to school the next day, Sam permanently attached to her side to make sure she's okay, and listens as he tells the others about Santana.

He doesn't say anything bad about her, just explains the situation. The others don't say anything bad either, they just look at her with worry, like they're not sure what to say, before asking if Santana's called her since.

She hasn't and, from the way Sam shifts awkwardly every time she shakes her head at the people who ask, she knows that's what she has most to worry about.

/

"What are you going to do?" Sam asks quietly, holding her on her bed again, stroking her hair from her cheeks wet from crying.

Brittany shrugs and takes a deep breath to try and talk before giving up. Her face screws up with tears instead but she pushes them away, determined to be strong.

It takes her a little while but, eventually—

"I love her," she whispers.

Sam sighs and tucks her closer to him. "She slept with someone else, Britt."

The response is automatic:

"Sex isn't dating."

Sam looks at her and pauses. "Britt," is all he says.

She closes her eyes and shakes her head, burying her face into his chest.

"I don't know," she breathes softly. "I don't know."

/

All she gets is a text a week or so later, in the end.

_Be happy, Britt Britt x_

It feels so sure, so final, that it terrifies Brittany.

When she calls Santana and it instantly goes to her voice mail is when she realizes that there was only ever one thing for her to do.

Especially when just the thought of losing Santana makes her feel like she's been dropped into a jungle in the dark. She feels lost and terrified and she tugs on Sam's arm and tells him he has to drive her car for her.

He nods and follows her direction when she tells him to take her to Santana's house.

Maribel opens the door and kind of slumps like a punctured balloon at the sight of Brittany stood there.

"She's not here," is the first thing she says before anything else.

Brittany nods. She didn't think she would be but she had to be sure. Her hand pulls on Sam's arm and she's telling them that they have to go to Louisville, that she has to call her mom and tell her she won't be home for dinner—and that Sam should probably call Mr. Hummel and do that too—when Maribel calls their names.

"Brittany," she says softly and they're almost at the car. Brittany debates just running but turns when Maribel calls her name again. There are tears in her eyes when she speaks.

"She's not there, either."

/

Mrs. Lopez explains that Santana called her a few days before and told her that she was dropping out of college. She tells Brittany that she tried to stop her, tried to get her to call her, but Santana was adamant that she'd ruined everything and she couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't be in the place that had ruined the best thing she ever had.

Brittany doesn't say anything and lets Sam doing all the talking for her. He asks Mrs. Lopez where Santana went and she tells them that Santana came home yesterday to put all her things back in her room and only stayed the night before leaving early that morning.

She tells them that she doesn't know where Santana was going but that she's sure she'll let her know that she's safe once she's settled.

Brittany doesn't listen to anymore, she just stands and walks quickly to Santana's room like they're lying, that Santana's still there and she's just hiding in her room, too ashamed and scared to talk to Brittany.

But she isn't and all that's left is boxes.

They're boxes full of memories and Brittany falls to her knees in front of them, pulling things from them and clutching them to her chest like they're all she'll ever have now.

Tears pour from her eyes and she can't breathe, she can't breathe, she can't breathe because Santana has her heart and her lungs don't know where it is so they can't work properly.

Neither Mrs. Lopez or Sam stop her. They just stand and watch until Brittany curls in on herself, face in her hands and forehead to the floor. It reminds her of praying and she closes her palms against each other and begs for Santana, begs quickly, and prays that she'll come back to her.

It's then that Sam wraps his arms around her and lifts her, kicking and screaming, into his arms. She doesn't stop kicking and screaming until he tucks her up in her bed and holds her still.

He has to hold her until she wears herself out and falls asleep in his arms.

/

She wakes up in the middle of the night and tries calling Santana.

She lets it go to voice mail and then begs Santana to come home, tells her that they need to talk, that she can't just leave her all alone, and then ends up sobbing down the line at her until it clicks off.

It wakes Sam up in the end and he takes the phone from her and puts it in her dresser drawer.

He holds her and tells her everything will be okay but how can it be when Santana isn't here.

She asks Sam but he doesn't know.

/

She changes.

She can see it in the way that Sam looks at her, curious and worried.

She gets quieter, buries her head in her studies and doesn't come back out until there's a scribbled red A in the top corner of all her papers.

People look at her like they want her to stop, like they want her go back to the way she was, but don't know that they can't tell her to stop doing things that are so obviously benefiting her.

It still doesn't stop them from being curious.

"What are you doing, Britt?" Sam asks softly.

She looks up from her Spanish home work, conjugations and grammar drowning out _te amo, te amo, te amo_, and shrugs.

"What I should have been doing a year ago," she whispers quietly.

Sam's shoulders slump and he doesn't ask her again.

/

The first she hears of Santana is through Rachel Berry.

**Rachel Berry **_checked in at __Veselka __ with _**Kurt Elizabeth Hummel **_and _**Santana Lopez**

There's a picture too, but it's not the kind that Brittany wants to see. It's just a picture of the table top, covered in plates and drinks.

The only part of Santana you can see is her hand, nails painted their perpetual red, and part of her sleeve. There's a cell phone—a different cell phone to the one Santana had before she left—underneath her palm and Brittany takes that as a sign that her phone messages aren't being listened to, that her texts are being ignored.

But it's the first part of Santana that Brittany's seen in three months and it feels weird to have all these words to say to Santana and not be able say them to her, so she writes them down.

She spends all night writing pages and pages to Santana about what it feels like to know that she's okay, to know that she's safe and has a warm bed to sleep in, that she isn't alone. She can't stop and she just keeps writing until her mom has to wake her up the next morning, face pressed to her desk.

She writes while she's in class, once she's finished the problems assigned by her teacher, and while she's at lunch beside Sam. She writes while she's in Glee club and while Sam drives her home after school. She writes and she write so much that her mom finds her an empty trinket chest to put them in.

She wonders how long it will take her to fill it up.

/

It doesn't take long. A month or so.

Sam finds them all one day when he comes by and thumbs through them, brow furrowed.

"Why don't you send them?" he asks.

Brittany shrugs. "I don't have an address."

"We could find one," he says curiously. "I'm sure if we talked to Rachel or Kurt we could get an address or something. A phone number. Maybe her mom knows."

"She doesn't," Brittany says softly. Maribel calls her every time Santana gets into contact and, every time, Maribel tells her that Santana still won't tell them her address. Brittany knows that both of Santana's parents visited New York during the holidays and that Santana kept it a secret, even then. They stayed in a hotel and they said goodbye to her every night before she disappeared home on the subway.

"But we could find one," Sam says again. "If we tried really hard, we could."

Brittany knows that Sam misses Santana too.

She smiles and carries on writing. "We could," she agrees.

They both know they won't.

/

There's an entire drawer in her dresser full of enveloped and addressed letters to Santana by the end of senior year.

Sam buys her a brand new chest to put them in as a graduation present and she lets him pile the letters inside of it as she gets ready for the ceremony. It's so large that it doesn't look like there's many in there, really. There's a padlock on the front and Brittany watches in her mirror as Sam clicks it shut and and then slips the key onto a gold chain.

He attaches it around Brittany's neck when she isn't looking and then positions it carefully against the front of her dress.

"One day, Britt," he says and she's not sure what he means but she nods anyway. She doesn't think it matters when he's spinning her around and hugging her tightly. "I'm so proud of you," he whispers.

Brittany hugs back just as tightly. "Me too," she says, not talking about him but herself.

/

Considering that she failed high school last year, going to college isn't really something that anyone expected her to do.

It's not really something that she expected to do herself but she figures that being able to isn't an opportunity that she's going to waste. She knows that she'll be fine because Sam will be there with her. She feels kind of hopeful for the first time in forever when they both arrive at OSU, Brittany's parents in their car behind them, full to the brim with their things, just like Brittany's is.

They're on the same hall and it takes forever for them to move all their things into their separate dorms, but Brittany's glad for it.

It's days like these that she starts thinking about Santana and being busy is good for her. Meeting her new roommate is good for her and going out for dinner with her and Sam and his roommate is good for her. It's new and having fun makes it easier not to think about the fact that Santana isn't here, that college is what ruined them and made Santana leave. It beats laying on her bed and thinking about where Santana is like she would if Sam wasn't here. It's safe and she laughs easily.

Still, she comes back to her dorm and she stays up late writing a letter to Santana under her desk lamp light, telling her all about her first day at college and wondering where she is.

/

By her first winter of college, Brittany learns that Santana isn't in New York anymore.

She has a cold and she's sat in her dorm in her PJs, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she tries to study for one of her classes, when Mercedes updates her Twitter.

Her momma always told her that procrastination was bad.

Between bewildering messages from Rihanna, empowering thoughts from Britney Spears and general fierceness from Lady Gaga sits:

mercedesjonesmusic What a gr8 afternoon! Ran into an old friend from high school. santanalopez we'll have to do that again!

It takes Brittany a moment to check but then she finds out that Mercedes is still in LA and that that probably means Santana is too. She's trying to figure out why Santana's in LA when Sam comes skidding up to her open dorm doorway, looking pretty much as terrible as she is and suffering from the same cold the entire floor has.

"Did you see—"

Brittany nods.

"Do you want me to—"

Brittany looks at him and pauses. She knows that he still talks to Mercedes, that they're pretty great friends after the whole are-they-aren't-they mess of her first senior year. She shrugs and he smiles but she doesn't think anything will come of it.

Nothing ever does.

/

Mercedes doesn't know anything and just as quickly as Santana was in LA she was gone again. The only real information Mercedes could give them is that Santana's time in California was cut short by work or something. Mercedes seemed to think that maybe Santana was a backing singer or something because she looked good and didn't have any time free in the evenings to go out for dinner.

Brittany could tell that Santana wasn't in New York because Rachel and Kurt hadn't said anything about her on Facebook in forever. Her mind buzzed with the probabilities that maybe Santana was touring with some famous band or singer, traveling the world, living her dreams and being happy.

It made her feel a little easier, it made her worry less. She still wrote letters but only when she could think of something to say—a memory or a question—and it felt like things were starting to get easier.

/

She convinces herself that she's okay until she comes home from work one fall night in sophomore year of college and everything changes.

She kinda hates her job at a movie theater, mostly because she hates scary movies—and that's mostly what plays when she does the late night shift—but she gets free popcorn, good pay, and she sees pretty much every movie ever released, so she can't complain.

Sam works there, too (but mostly when the kiddy movies are on), and they live together in a small apartment that they can both afford without having to go hungry. Pretty much everyone who knows them but doesn't really _know _them thinks that they're dating, except they're not and they have separate beds. Sure, they've walked in on each other getting changed or in the bathroom a few times but it doesn't matter. It works.

They're best friends.

Until Santana Lopez updates her Facebook for the first time in two years and Brittany just so happens to get home in time to see it.

Then they're not.

She should have listened to Sam when he told her to go to bed. Then, maybe, she wouldn't have seen it. Rachel would have backed up her timeline with novel-long statuses and Tina would have posted videos from random bands no one had ever heard of. Mike would be posting dorky pictures of him and his friends being dumb and her mom would have written a status that all her friends would have commented on a bajillion times.

She should have listened to Sam but, instead, she checks Facebook and the first thing she sees is the last thing she ever wants to see.

**Santana Lopez **_is now friends with _**Amy Brody Adams**

**Santana Lopez **_is in a relationship. _

**Santana Lopez **_is in a relationship with _**Amy Brody Adams **

**Amy Brody Adams **_and _**Santana Lopez **_like this. _

/

The first thing she does is cry.

Like, really cry, for the first time in forever. There's drool and snot bubbles and she's pretty sure she's coming down with a cold again, so she shivers and she feels sick and her head starts to hurt.

Sam watches her, knowing that she doesn't need hugs yet. He watches her for what feels like hours, just like he did the last time she saw Santana, and doesn't say anything as she wanders aimlessly around their apartment, not knowing what to do. He lets her clutch at old glee photos, lets her dig through her dresser and find the pictures of her and Santana she hides there for the bad days. He lets her listen to _Songbird _and _Landslide _on repeat until it's not a song anymore, just a noise.

And then he sits down beside her and strokes her back when she sits beside her desk and begins to write another letter.

She gets to "_Dear Santana, I miss you. Come back to me_" before she loses it. She gets angry for the first time in two years and Sam lets her at first. He watches as she brushes everything off her desk before she rips the letter into confetti. He only stops her when she begins to throw photo frames at the walls, as she kicks over furniture and almost hurts herself trying to upturn her desk.

He holds her underneath the shoulders, pinning her arms behind her back and allows her to slump in his arms from the weight of her sobs. He lets her slide to the floor and wraps his arms around her as she rocks backwards and forwards trying to lull herself into calm.

He clutches her close, closer and more intimately than anyone's done since Santana left and whispers into her hair, kisses against her hairline, her temple, the apple of her cheek where the tears run thick and fast. It's different and she needs different so she relaxes into it. She relaxes into it too much and, before she can realize what's happening, their noses are presses together and she can feel Sam's breath against her lips, his hand at the back of her neck, keeping her there. It almost makes her feel drunk and she closes the space between them without even thinking about it.

"Britt—" he protests but she can tell that he's curious, that two years of looking after someone he shouldn't have to has made him tired and lonely. She can tell he needs a release, that watching her wait has been almost as unbearable as waiting.

It's him that joins their mouths the second time and they kiss slowly until they kiss fast and reckless like all lost and confusing kisses are. All Brittany knows is that she wants this—him—right now, at this moment, when she just needs to remember what intimacy is. She climbs into his lap, locks her hips over his and wraps her arms around his neck, ignoring how different he feels to the tiny body she still feels used to.

She thinks about how weird it is as he lifts them both, tangling her legs wrapped around his waist, and pushes her against the nearest wall. She feels like she's forgotten this, like she's forgotten what it's like to want this. It's been so long since she had sex with anyone, since she had sex with a boy. She hasn't wanted to because her body still wants skinny hips and a perfect mouth. Her mind has to tell her things instead of acting on instinct and she's almost mechanical as she tugs at Sam's shirt, as she reaches between them and unbuttons her jeans. He lets her go, so that she can push them down her legs and kick them off, but then picks her up again. Their kisses are sloppy as she removes her shirt and she takes her time between dropping it to the floor and what comes next.

He doesn't seem too bothered. He just kisses her and palms at her ass where he holds her by it. His fingers tease beneath her underwear and she bucks into him with the movements until she can feel the strangely familiar but not feel of his arousal against her. He whispers an apology but all she feels is lust and not much else as she reaches between them and pushes down his pajama pants and boxers in one go. She looks down at him and after that it's easy, easier. It's physical. All she has to do is use one hand to wrap around him and another to push her underwear to the side before guiding him into her.

He sighs and it's different. He kisses her neck and thrusts into her. She toys with the hair at the back of his neck and lapses into the feeling throbbing between her legs until Sam stutters back and tries to pull back.

"C-condom..." he stutters.

It's a weird thing to have to worry about after so long. She blinks and she isn't even sure if they have any. She definitely doesn't. She doesn't remember seeing any in the bathroom or in Sam's wallet when she stole ten bucks for milk either.

She decides she doesn't really care and tugs him back to her. "Just pull out," she whispers and kisses him before he can protest.

He moves into her slowly and she doesn't like it. She nudges her nose against him and mouths "faster" against his lips. He stutters but then he does as he's told, moving until she can't see, until she's tightening too quickly around him and falling apart. He moves until he pulls back abruptly and she ignores the warmth against her stomach and his guttural moan of thanks.

She ignores it all and just basks in the carefree feeling for as long as she can.

/

He avoids her for a few days and tells her he has extra shifts and classes even though their schedules are tacked to the fridge.

By Wednesday night—their mutual night off—he has no choice but to come home.

She's sat there waiting for him with an I'm-sorry takeout, beer and a pile of dorky movies so high there's a possibility he might pee himself with excitement.

He looks at her as he walks in from his last class and then reaches for something inside of his backpack to put beside it all.

Brittany stares from him to the box of condoms in confusion.

"I don't care about doing that for you, Britt," he says softly. "You're not exactly hard on the eye and I know... I know that you're lonely." She looks away from him. "I know that you miss her and I know that you miss being close to her and I can be a substitute for that. I can be that person for you, because I know you're not ready." She stares at her feet. He moves to sit beside her and reaches for her hand until she looks at him. "But we have to be safe..." He pauses. "We have to be safe because one day that idiot is going to realize how much she loves you and come back here and I made her a promise. I made her a promise to look after you and I'm going to do that in anyway I can."

She's touched but she fights back the tears by teasing him. "And, what? You're scared she'll kick your ass if you knock me up?"

Sam doesn't smile and Brittany's smile falls because of it.

"No," he says softly. "No. Because one day you're going to start a family with her and I don't want to get in the way of that. I can't."

Brittany looks at him, really looks at him, and wonders why she couldn't fall in love with Sam Evans first.

/

She guesses this is what having sex with your best friend feels like when he's just your best friend.

There's no romance.

There's no foreplay.

She's still half dressed and Sam's only got his pants unbuttons and his shirt pushed up around his abs.

Brittany's pretty sure Sam's watching Princess Leia in her gold bikini over her shoulder and, the weirdest thing is, she wishes she was watching her too.

And the whole best friends thing is why she doesn't feel weird when she stops and tells him this isn't working. He just stands up and then lets her guide him around the couch, doesn't need direction when she kicks her sweats off the whole way and parts her legs, bending over the couch. He just grips at her hips and carries on.

/

Eight months or so later, there's no mention of Amy Brody Adams on Santana's Facebook. She's single again and has been a while but Brittany's still having sex with Sam.

Not as much but kinda still often.

It's kind of different now, too. There's no more asking if the other wants to have sex. It's less mechanical. It's kind of more like sex how normal people do it. Like, one time, Sam came home from work and Brittany was naked in his bed and, another time, it was Sam proving that he could get someone off in less than a minute with his mouth and then Brittany trying to beat him.

Fights for the remote end up with slow and sweaty sex on the couch in the middle of the afternoon.

It feels like they're together and, to be honest, Brittany isn't sure if they are or they aren't anymore.

Especially not when nights out with their friends end up with Sam fucking her in an alley or touching her in the back of a cab.

It kind of scares her.

Their friends think they're together and it feels like they're together. She lays beside a naked Sam one Sunday morning in nothing but a t-shirt and narrows her eyes.

"Are you in love with me?" she asks.

Sam turns to her and eyes her worriedly. "Why? Are you in love with me?"

Brittany laughs. "No."

Sam breathes out in relief. "Good. Me either. You're my best friend, Britt."

Brittany bites her tongue. "Do you treat all your best friends this way, Samuel?"

"No," he says as he swats at her ass. She jerks away from him before rolling to lay atop him. "But I like what we have. I feel like... I don't know. Are you ready to be with someone? Is that what you're saying?" Brittany adamantly shakes her head. "Then I'm fine. I'm happy."

"Me too," Brittany says, glad that she almost means it. "But you shouldn't put your life on hold because of me." She pauses and a lump rises up her throat, thick and sad as she tries to speak. "I could be waiting forever... It doesn't seem right that both of our lives might end up being wasted."

Sam clutches her closer and tugs the covers closer up around them even though it's hot outside. He kisses her temple and she breathes hard against him, desperate not to cry. It doesn't work very well—it never does—but Sam doesn't say anything. He lets her cry and strokes her hair until she calms down.

"I don't like the idea of you thinking that you're wasting your life, Britt" he whispers softly. "If that's what you think is going on then I don't want to do this anymore. Do you really think that?"

Brittany breathes out and thinks.

Is she wasting her life? Maybe. But there's still some deep part of her that stops and nudges her, reminding her that Santana's still out there in the world, that she's alive and that there's still a chance that they might do all the things they were supposed to... that they might end up growing old together someday.

She doesn't see how any time spent waiting for that could ever be a waste.

"No," she chokes. "No, I don't."

She doubts she ever will.

/

**Santana Lopez **_is now friends with _**Marta Kristaberg**

**Santana Lopez **_is now friends with _**Joanne Cleary**

**Santana Lopez **_is now friends with _**Carey Rose**

**Santana Lopez **_is now friends with _**Duncan Fitzpatrick**_ and _**Stacey Ann Berger **

The worse thing about time going on is that, slowly, Santana starts to become more and more active online again.

Brittany feels creepy stalking her Facebook and monitoring all these friends, but it's the only thing she has left of Santana now. It's her only way of knowing who she is now and she doesn't care if it's creepy if she still has this small, miniscule part of Santana to keep.

Only on bad days do the thoughts, of all these women maybe being the one who ruins all her hopes and dreams, get to her. The rest of the time she just looks on fondly and thanks god that Santana isn't alone, glad that she's surrounded by people who care about her.

She doesn't really know much, just that Santana travels a lot, but she's glad for that.

Only once does it really get to her on a good day, when one woman—Julia Bennett—leaves a message that doesn't really leave much to the wandering mind.

_Thanks for last night, _her message says complete with smiley face. _We'll definitely have to do it again some time_.

It's signed off with a winky face and about fourteen kisses. It's accompanied by a comment from someone else mentioning how they wondered where Santana had got to last night and it must say something that the first thing Brittany does isn't to fall into bed with Sam.

Instead, she makes him take her out drinking, now that they're old enough, and doesn't let him take her home until she can't walk and the bartender has to tell him to get her out of there.

Even still, she doesn't sleep with him then, or the morning after, or for a long time after that, really. She just sleeps in the whole of the next day and misses classes for the next week.

Sam doesn't say anything, just leaves for work without a word.

/

She still writes letters.

Most of them are still about memories or asking questions but, lately, all she's been writing about is how she wishes she knew what Santana looked like now.

Santana's profile pictures are still the same ones from high school, any pictures uploaded by her friends left untagged, and Brittany wants to know silly things.

She wants to know if Santana's hair is still long, if it's got lighter (because there was no way it could get any darker) or if her eyes are older. She wants to know if she lets her hair go curly after showers, in the way Brittany used to love, or if she wears her glasses in public. She wants to know if she got more beautiful or if her body continued to fill out like it had done so quickly during those last couple of years at high school.

Most of the time, she just ends up laying back on her bed thinking about her, imagining.

Most of the time, she falls asleep, her dreams filled with a million different images of Santana, each one more perfect than the next.

/

Sam tells her he's dating someone the same day that Santana sets her relationship status to _it's complicated_.

It's a double blow but she gets over it quickly, even though Sam tells her to forget he ever said anything once he finds out.

She shoves at him and tells him to stop being an idiot. They haven't had sex in months, shared a bed in almost as long and she was wondering why he was spending so much time at work.

It's harder to know what's going on with him now that she's got her new job at the newspaper but it's kinda what she needs if she's going to be a journalist—a photojournalist—her boss tells her.

Apparently she's gifted.

No one but Santana had ever really told her that before.

For all the complaining that Santana did because no one saw how great Brittany was and how sad it made both of them, having other people tell her how awesome she is doesn't make Brittany feel anywhere near as proud as when Santana had.

Except Sam.

It kind of feels almost as good when Sam tells her. He's the second person who ever got it.

He's the second person whoever got _her _and that's what makes it so hard when she tries to convince him that she's fine because he knows she isn't.

And it's hard because it's been four years now. Nearly five whole years without Santana and Santana broke her heart but it still feels like something's missing.

"Tell me all about her, Sam..." she says softly.

He looks at her. "Britt."

She gives him a look and he shuts up. "Tell me, Sam. I want to know."

It still takes him a second but then he shrugs and a goofy smile befalls his lips.

"You're going to think I'm crazy, Britt," he says softly but the fact that he's smiling tells her she'll do no such thing.

/

So, Sam's madly in love with Sugar Motta.

…

Brittany doesn't swear much but it's fuckin' weird, yo.

Not because it's Sugar but because Sugar's so different to that dappy rich girl they knew in high school.

Apparently bankruptcy has the ability to bring people crashing back down to earth.

Sugar's a lot cooler than she was in high school.

She's still absolutely crazy, but she's awesome and she loves Sam more than enough for Brittany to let her date her best friend.

She also knows about the weird Santana situation which helps because it's nice to have someone who doesn't think her and Sam are practically married. It's nice to have a friend who doesn't ask her why she's single or set her up with other people. Brittany thinks that maybe Sam's told her some stuff but they're kinda close. They've ended up talking until Sam gets home from midnight superhero movie showings more than a couple of times and Sugar doesn't really beat around the bush still. It's nice.

"So, you're just waiting?" she asks one night, hands wrapped around a hot cocoa, both of them in their jammies and wrapped in blankets.

Brittany blows steam away from her mug and shrugs. "I don't know what I'm doing," she admits.

"But you'd take her back?" Sugar asks, confused. "I mean... she cheated on you."

"Once... when she was drunk," Brittany reminds her quickly. "And, I don't know. I just miss her."

/

It happens all out of order.

Or maybe it's in order.

Brittany's given up attempting to predict the cosmic order of events or fate and all that bullshit.

A woman at work sees some of her own private photography one day and asks her if she's available for hire because her friend needs a wedding photographer and she'd be perfect.

Brittany's ready to tell the truth—that she can't because she's going to be a photojournalist—when her boss jumps in and tells the woman that she can. He gives the woman Brittany's number and within a day the woman's friend is offering to pay her two thousand dollars for a day of taking her wedding pictures.

By the time she leaves the wedding, she's given out her number more than twenty times to potential clients who all want to hire her services for weddings and christenings and corporate stuff.

She spends the rest of the week after that with Sam, building her a website and making business cards.

Within six weeks, she's graduated from college and she's working full time.

Within six months, she has her own studio in Downtown Columbus and there's a woman who wants to put her pictures up in a gallery and hold an exhibition.

She also wants to take Brittany out to dinner.

What's weird is that Brittany accepts.

/

It's only a business dinner, but the fact that Brittany actually accepted without know that is a big step.

Especially when it gets her on the books of a photographic agency meaning that she has more work coming in, meaning that she gets to travel a lot more.

She loves it. It's frantic but freeing at the same time.

Within a year, she's jetting around the country and she's done a couple of _Nylon_ cover shoots and actually been in the magazine in an article about the best up-and-coming creatives under twenty-fives.

It's not what she expected five years ago when she was failing high school.

But, if there's one thing Brittany's learned, it's that nothing ever goes how you expect it to.

/

Brittany goes to New York some time in early September to shoot another _Nylon_ cover for young fashion designer, Kurt Hummel.

She's nervous all the way to the loft Kurt works out of, but it disappears the minute he has her wrapped up in a hug so tight it almost strangles her. Then there's Rachel Berry yanking her from him and crying as she holds Brittany close.

What's weird, is that Brittany cries too.

/

They barely get any work done and spend the whole day talking instead.

It's like it hasn't been six years since they were last in each other's company, like high school never stopped.

Except it did and they're older and their entire worlds have changed around them.

/

They go for dinner, after, to Veselka, and, even though Brittany's never been here with Santana, the whole place reminds Brittany of her.

"Santana always has the meat plate," Rachel says, like she can tell what Brittany was thinking. Brittany looks away from the walls and stares at her. "She thinks it's funny to fill the table with meat considering I'm vegan."

Brittany doesn't know what to say so she just nods politely before staring down at her plate.

It takes a moment for a hand to cover hers. "She's not here, you know?" Rachel says and of course Brittany doesn't know. She looks up a little. "Last we heard, she was in..."

"San Francisco," Kurt supplies softly.

Rachel nods. "She's a record producer. Well... sort of. She got an internship with some big name producer and then he took her on as his assistant when he found out how good her ear was. Here..."

Brittany looks away and then, a few seconds later, there's a phone being thrust at her. She looks down at the screen and all breath empties from her. Blood rushes through her ears and she just stares at the picture of Santana. Her head of slightly shorter, messier curls, sit tied atop her head haphazardly. Her glasses are askew on her nose as she slings her arm around a person Brittany pays no mind to notice. All she takes in is the same, beautiful smile and the familiarity of a Santana who isn't dressed to the nines. A striped t-shirt and baggy jeans have never looked more wonderful on anyone.

"God..." Kurt breathes but it still doesn't drag her eyes away. Rachel's hand rests on her wrist and she taps the screen of her phone for Brittany when it threatens to go dark, her eyes knowing and calm. "You're still in love with her."

She doesn't deny it. She just looks.

"I knew she was being ridiculous," he goes on. "She arrived here that fall and she was talking like you hated her and that you'd promised to never forgive her or speak to her again. She slept on our couch and sobbed for a month straight before Rachel made her go get a job."

Brittany's breath shakes from her at the thought of a crying Santana and even more of a Santana that thought she hated her. After all, she's still the first thing Brittany thinks of in those weird in between moments when she wakes up. She's still what Brittany reaches for in the middle of the night when her dreams scare her.

"I didn't..." is all she can manage to explain to them for a moment. And then, when she remembers what happened, her face falls and crinkles. "She left me."

It silences them and then the conversation drops for a little while. Brittany gets up to got to the bathroom and when she comes back there's a little notification on her phone saying "_files received from Rachel Berry_". They offer to walk her back to her hotel and promise to meet her for breakfast before she leaves.

Before they get back into their cab, Rachel bundles Brittany into her arms and holds her tight, rubs her back gently and sighs.

"It probably won't make any difference," she whispers. "but I don't think she wanted to—leave you, that is—" Brittany slumps against her. "If I'm honest," Rachel breathes softly. "I think she'd come back to you tomorrow if you even gave her the slightest inclination that you wanted her to. I think that she'd follow you around the world if you so much as wondered where she was out loud."

The words break something in Brittany and she clutches Rachel close and remembers the hours and hours she still spends in the middle of the night, looking at pictures of them together, asking the universe where she is and what she has to do to get her back.

"I already do," she admits quietly and feels Rachel stiffen.

/

She manages to make it back to Columbus before she looks at what she received from Rachel knowing full well what it is.

Her plane gets in late and Sam's at Sugar's and she falls into bed and stares at the picture of Santana, finger tracing the outline of her, trying to teach herself the new and different lines of her.

It's been almost six years since she last saw Santana and that scares her. Each year that number gets bigger and each year she worries that it'll soon stop being a number and just a wasted blip of her universe when she never sees Santana again.

It's been six years and she still doesn't know why Santana never spoke to her.

She doesn't know why Santana just got up and left her waiting, why she never ended it.

It never ended and maybe that's why she hasn't moved on.

She's waiting for closure. She's waiting for Santana to look at her dead in the eye and say, "Britt Britt, we're done" but she doesn't think that's ever going to happen.

Santana told her to be happy but she can't do that.

She can't do that when Santana's still out there. It doesn't make sense that Santana's the one that's out there somewhere and she's the one that feels lost.

After a few hours, she can't get to sleep, so she gets up and sits at her desk to write a letter.

She writes pages about Santana's face and her body, how proud she is and how, even after she's seen that she's safe, Brittany still wonders.

She will always wonder.

And that's her curse.

/

Sam and Sugar introduce her to David in late September.

Brittany gets angry at first and storms away from them once David's left to restaurant. Sam follows her and stops her from getting into a cab. She spins on her heels and rounds on him the minute he touches her.

"You had no right," she says lowly. "You had no right, Sam... I don't want this. I _don't _want this."

Sam clutches at her shoulders and shakes her a little.

"It's been nearly six years, Brittany," he reminds her and the use of her whole name makes her tense. "It's been six years and you've grown up and you've got better and Santana probably has too. She hasn't come back, Britt," he whispers and his voice breaks. "She hasn't come back and I know you say you're not wasting your life but you're not living it. You're missing out on the love of someone who could treat you how you should be treated. You're missing out on starting a life. You're missing out on the joy of loving someone who deserves to be loved by you."

She shrugs out of his grasp and shakes her head at him.

"I don't have any love to give anyone, Sam," she reminds him lowly. "I don't want to love someone else."

He looks at her and tries to speak but he isn't quick enough.

Brittany gets in the cab.

/

They somehow manage to talk her into going on a double date with them and David.

Brittany sits beside him, back straight and body tense as he does all the things that charming men do when they're trying to impress someone. She chuckles but she doesn't laugh. She smiles but she doesn't grin. She eats quietly and doesn't really talk. Sam and Sugar look at each other and Brittany can tell that they know they've stepped out of line when she spends more time looking around the restaurant than at the man beside her.

She shrugs her shoulders at them when David's in the bathroom and Sam asks her to try, to just try to like him but he isn't what Brittany wants.

She'd rather be alone than deliberately unhappy.

She excuses herself early and leaves without dessert.

She gets more joy from climbing into bed and staring at the picture of Santana that Rachel sent her all those weeks ago.

/

It's just another normal day.

She's at a shoot in Nashville, shooting pictures of some up-and-coming new indie band, when her personal phone goes off.

She ignores it like she always does when she's at work. She doesn't mind if clients hear her getting calls verifying appointments but, when they hear her having to tell Sam where the emergency stash of toilet paper is, she doesn't think it's professional.

But when it goes off again ten minutes later and then again another fifteen minutes after that, and another twenty after that and another five after that, she thinks that maybe it's more important than toilet paper.

When she sees that it's Maribel Lopez calling her...

She doesn't know what to think.

/

She sends everyone for lunch and steps outside to return the call.

"Brittany?" a rushed and worried voice calls down the phone.

Brittany gulps. "Maribel? Is something wrong? Is it..."

"My mother had a stroke," Maribel tells her quickly, her voice almost emotionless. "It's bad. It's really bad."

"I'm sorr—" Brittany starts but she's cut off just as quickly.

"She's coming home, Brittany," Maribel says softly. "Santana's coming home. She's finally coming home." Brittany's heart stops. She's sure of it. "I just thought that you should know before she gets here."

The shock registers quickly. Words refuse to form and leave her mouth. She just stands there with her phone to her ear wondering _why now_ as Maribel breathes down the phone.

"I just thought you deserved to know," Maribel repeats and then Brittany hears more voices. "I have to go, Brittany. I hope you're well."

The line clicks off and five minutes later, Brittany's still stood there with the phone to her ear.

Fifteen minutes later, she's apologizing to the person in charge of the shoot and heading to the airport.


	2. Chapter 2

She goes back to Columbus first and, foolishly, tells Sam what she plans to do.

"No, Britt..." he says hurriedly. "No, you're not going."

She stops packing her bag and turns to him. Her eyes narrow in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"You're not going," Sam says, soft yet firm. "I'm not letting you do this."

Brittany laughs mirthlessly and puts down the shirts in her hand down onto the bed. She rubs at her forehead a little before shaking her head at him."That isn't your choice."

Sam scoffs. "Yeah, but I'm your best friend and I'm not going to let you do something so reckless. So stupid."

Face hardening, she takes a step forward. She still fucking hates that word.

"You think I'm being stupid?" she asks, her voice trying and failing to keep level. "Stupid was failing high school the first time around and ruining my relationship with the only person I have ever loved. Stupid was me never running after her and telling her that I didn't hate her, that I will _never _hate her, and that I was just upset but I'd forgive her eventually. Stupid was me failing, every day for six _fucking_ years, to find her and tell her that I'm where she should be, that we were supposed to be together _forever_, Sam. _Forever."_

He shakes his head at her words, refusing to believe them.

"She ruined that, Britt," he says. "She _broke _your heart. She left you. She left both of us and she didn't come back. This isn't how it's supposed to go. This isn't how it's supposed to work."

Brittany shoves him away from her as he steps closer. "Oh, and how was it supposed to work, Sam?" she spits. "Tell me because I'm obviously too stupid to know."

"She was supposed to run back to YOU!" he yells suddenly and Brittany steps back, shocked, eyes growing wide as he points right at Brittany's chest. "She was supposed to realize how much of a stupid fucking idiot she's been and remember that you are the best person she or I or anyone else will ever know. She was supposed to come back to you... _running._ If you go back to her, if you chase her, you're not teaching her anything."

Her entire body softens at his words and she wraps him up in a hug without another word. They hold each other for a moment before she rubs her hands through is messy blond hair.

"This isn't about lessons, Sam..." she whispers and then come the tears. She buries her nose into his shoulder as they stream down her cheeks. "I've learned everything I need to know and I _can't_ live without her anymore... she makes me happy." She tries to laugh at herself but it doesn't work. "This is my _chance_, Sammy."

Sam pulls away and shakes his head. His hands cup her cheeks and stroke away her tears. "If she hurts you..."

Brittany hugs him again but holds him tight.

"I know," she whispers. "I know."

/

She hates coming back to Lima because everything reminds her of Santana.

This isn't the place she's from, it isn't where her parents live, it isn't _home_. Everywhere is a place where Santana has been and that's all Lima is to Brittany. It's all it will ever be.

The gay station on the corner reminds her of getting sodas on Friday afternoons after Cheerios practice. The movie theater reminds her of being fourteen and sneaking into movies they shouldn't have. Breadstix reminds her of that day, almost seven years ago to the day, when Santana _finally_ gave them the label Brittany wanted and held her hand under a napkin. The Lima Bean reminds her of Sunday afternoons, snuggled up on the comfy couches at the back with their friends.

Even the hospital isn't really a hospital. It's the place where she could find Santana when she couldn't find her anywhere else.

That seems kind of fitting right now.

/

Maribel is talking to the nurses when she arrives. She has her back to Brittany and all the nurses look over her shoulder when Brittany slows to a stop behind her. It makes Maribel spin around quickly to find her and her face lights up and falls just as quickly when she sees who they're looking at.

"You're here," she whispers and then Brittany doesn't know how you can miss the arms of someone you're not actually sure has ever hugged you, but she does. "You're here," Maribel mumbles. "Thank god, you came."

The whole thing just makes Brittany a little breathless. She can't really think of anything to say.

Maribel must notice when she pulls back because fondness seeps quickly into her features, despite their surroundings. She smiles and her expression reminds Brittany so much of Santana that she nearly has to look away.

"You got more beautiful," she whispers as her hand cups Brittany's cheek. Her face falls. "Maybe that'll make her see sense."

Brittany freezes slowly. She reaches up to take Maribel's hand, squeezing it in her own, if only to steady herself.

"She's here," she asks thickly. Her voice, barely a breath, shakes just as uncontrollably as the rest of her body. "She's really here."

Maribel sighs and reaches with the other hand to trace what must be the hopelessness in Brittany's face.

"I'll take you to her," Maribel says and Brittany's heart beats all out of order, like it knows what's about to happen and it's trying to remember how to work.

/

"Shall I..." Maribel says when they round the corner to the final hallway. Brittany pulls back and shakes her head. Maribel stops and looks at her as they get closer to the room, her mother's name written clearly on the front.

Brittany laughs awkwardly. "I don't want to intrude," she says and then realizes she has no idea what she's going to say. "I have no idea what I'm doing here."

Maribel must notice something because she just nods. "Okay," she whispers. "Stay here. I just need to go and talk to the nurses."

She gives Brittany another hug, drops a kiss to her cheek, and leaves slowly.

It takes her a while but, eventually, Brittany creeps up to the room slowly, like she might die if this happens too fast, that her heart might stop unless she's careful.

There's a huge window that looks into the room and the blind pulled down but open when she gets there. It makes her feel safer and she steps a little closer to peer between two of the thin pieces of metal. Everything still moves to fast and she gasps as quietly as she can when the first thing she sees is dark, unruly hair.

Her heart instantly begins to beat faster. She hears it thud-thud-thudding in her ears, warm and hot like her blood.

It's strange because, even now, she can still remember how Santana's hair feels, tangled in her fingers, messy from sleep. She can still remember how stroking it would instantly calm Santana, how it would make her feel better when she was sad. She wonders, for what feels like the millionth time, who gets to do that for her now. Who did Santana find to make her feel better?

Just as quickly, she wonders what it would take for her to be that person again? She doesn't think that there's anything she wouldn't do in a second.

She shakes those thoughts away quickly and concentrates on looking instead.

She takes in how Santana sits there by the bed, stock still and silent. She wears her overalls and a t-shirt and Brittany assumes that the sweatshirt thrown over the back of the plastic hospital chair she sits on is hers. Her face is turned away, looking towards the woman on the bed, but Brittany prefers that right now.

It's enough for now because the soft lines of her are enough to make Brittany remember that she isn't as scary as this moment feels, but safe. They make her feel brave enough to move just a little closer and see something else. It feels like she's piecing her back together and Brittany wants to see more.

She shifts her feet just that little bit more until she sees the frames of Santana's glasses and the apple of her left cheek. It's pale but a little red with dry tear tracks. Brittany's breath catches because it still looks like the warmest, softest, most perfect skin she'll ever touch.

When Santana lifts her hand to brush her hand across it, Brittany gasps in sudden disbelief. Everything suddenly feels incredibly real and she's not sure what she thought was happening, but she's overcome with the welcome revelation that she's here. Santana's actually here.

Her reaction is instinctive. Her hand reaches up to press against the window, desperate to touch Santana, to break down one more sensory barrier and make sure that she's there. She doesn't even think about it because reaching to touch Santana has never been something she's done.

But she wishes that, this time, it was, because the second her hand hits the glass, it collides with the weight of her hand and the rings on her fingers. The sound is louder than she expected.

It makes Santana jump and Brittany jumps too but she doesn't jump back, hoping, wishing, wanting, for just a little more time. Her eyes go wide and she freezes until Santana turns around to find the source of the noise.

It's then that Brittany darts back, desperate to hide, to remain secret for just a little while longer, but it's too late. Santana sees her like her eyes were made to find her.

For a split second, their gaze meets and, then, Santana's jumping up and spinning around, knocking over her chair in the process with an unruly clatter of sound.

Her face falls and she stares at Brittany through the window, eyes almost as wide as her mouth as she takes her in. Brittany can tell that her whole body is tense. Her worrisome hands wring together at her stomach, nervous and unsure. She looks as terrified as a baby rabbit, jumpy and nervous. She barely takes a second to make sure she hasn't affected the unmoving woman in the bed, before her eyes snap back to Brittany.

With shaky hands, she reaches out to pull on the cord of the blind. It raises slowly and Brittany just looks as Santana stares back at her, her eyes growing wider by the second. Her eyes blink rapidly and then slow when Brittany doesn't disappear. It makes Brittany's heart ache when her hand reaches up, just as hers had done, to reach for her.

Brittany takes that as her cue to walk inside and she watches as Santana's eyes follow her the whole way, her body moving backwards the closer Brittany gets until she finds herself cornered. Her palms hit the walls like it might give way if she presses hard against them and, in the end, Brittany stops at the doorway, worried that Santana might jump out of the window if she moves any closer.

It takes a while, five minutes, maybe, of Santana just staring at her and taking her in, before she says anything.

"What—what are you doing here?" she breathes, so timid and un-Santana-like that it's strange.

But then, a lot of things are strange, Brittany thinks. She thought she would be a lot less calm than she thought she would be if this moment ever happened. She thought she'd be sobbing by now. She thought she'd be a crying, weeping wreck but she isn't. She finally feels calm. She feels like this is where she should be and that makes her okay.

All she really feels is the need to explain.

She thumbs behind her to the hallway. "Your mom called me."

Santana flinches at the words.

"Why?" she breathes.

Brittany looks at her and the answer is easy.

She shrugs her shoulders.

"Because I've been waiting for you to come home."

A second later, Santana bursts into tears.

/

They both sit on adjacent sides of the room. Brittany copies Santana's position to make her feel safer, and sits on the floor with her knees tucked up to her chest. Santana doesn't look at her but Brittany can't not.

"Are you okay now?" She asks because it was weird not being able to hug it better. Santana nods quickly and it's strange how much she looks like a chastised child, like she's waiting for punishment.

Brittany almost laughs when she realizes she is, that Santana still thinks she's mad at her.

"It's been a long time," she comments, like that might stop Santana and be enough to explain. It isn't. "How are you?"

Santana looks up quickly. "Fine," she lies in that same breathless and timid voice from before.

Brittany shakes her head and plays with some lint on her jeans. "I'm not here to argue with you, Santana."

"Then why are you here?" Santana asks like it's a trick or set-up.

Brittany shrugs and smiles a little. "Like I said," she says. "I was waiting for you to come home."

"Why?"

Brittany laughs and it's probably too loud for a hospital. Santana looks at her and Brittany shakes her head, her smile fond.

"Because I _missed_ you, Santana."

Brown eyes widen and look away. Brittany watches carefully, awed, as Santana pushes her glasses up onto the top of her head and wipes her tears away. Her forehead falls to rest against her knees and a moment later, her shoulders shake with quiet little sobs.

They stay like that until nurses and doctors and Maribel return to the room. Maribel looks between them, and Brittany thinks that she might turn around and leave but, before she can, the nurse turns to Brittany and tells her that it's family only.

Those words seem to make Santana cry harder and Maribel touches Brittany's hand knowingly when Brittany gets up and tries to move closer to her.

"I'll call you later," she says softly. "Don't go too far."

Brittany nods, eyes never leaving Santana. "I'll wait outside," she says as she leaves the room.

Before she leaves, she sees Maribel leaning down and Santana reaching for her like she used to when she was little and she'd scraped her knee. Her arms wrap around her mother's shoulders and it takes Brittany's breath away because that's Santana—that's _her _Santana—and she's still here.

/

It's October and it's freezing but she spends all afternoon sat on a bench outside the hospital waiting for them to leave.

It's late before they do but she steps towards them the minute she sees them, her smile tentative.

Santana follows behind Maribel with her head down, still as nervous as ever.

"Where are you staying?" Maribel asks softly.

Brittany shrugs. "I didn't tell my parents I was coming yet, so I guess probably a hotel or something."

"Don't be silly..." Maribel says. "Come sleep in the guest room."

Brittany doesn't miss how Santana's head snaps up or her eyes go wide. Her mouth opens and closes like she wants to say something, so Brittany saves her.

"No, no..." she whispers with a smile to Santana. "I'll stay at a hotel."

/

She's up early and at the hospital by eight am the next morning, not wanting to miss them heading in. She holds coffee and Maribel spots her first, dragging Santana over to her quickly.

"Here..." Brittany says quietly. "One black coffee and one latte with a shot..." She gives Maribel Santana's latte to give to her first and reaches into the pocket of her coat as she gives the black coffee to her after. "And I got Sweet-n-Low and some sugar."

She hands the Sweet-n-Low to Maribel and offers the sugar to Santana. She watches how Santana eyes her hands the whole way, like she might reach out and grab her if she moves to fast, and how she jumps back in shock when Brittany doesn't.

"Thank you," Santana whispers softly.

Brittany smiles. "You're welcome."

/

She can't be in the room with them but she's allowed in the cafeteria.

Maribel tells her that it's silly to stick around all day, that she should go visit her parents but Brittany can't find it in her to go see them. She doesn't know how she would explain. She doesn't think she should have to, so she tells Maribel that she'll just stick around.

She's glad that she brought some work with her to finish, but she kind of just sits there with it surrounding her on a table in the corner, unable to concentrate with the knowledge of Santana being so close circling her head.

All she can think about is how her heart feels like it's actually working again, how she slept better and worse than she's done in forever. She's thinking about Santana so much that, when she arrives in front of her, she almost doesn't realize.

"My mom sent me down here," she says when Brittany's finally jumped and caught up. Her voice is almost apologetic, like she would never have bothered Brittany on her own without being instructed to. "She said to tell you that they're taking Abuela for more tests at two, so she'll be down to see you then."

She turns to leave slowly and Brittany jumps, calling after her. Santana turns back quickly, her face to the floor.

"W-will you come too?" Brittany asks.

Santana looks up and then nods quickly.

She leaves just as before Brittany can take it back and Brittany smiles, out of control.

/

"What is all this?" Maribel asks, sipping crappy hospital coffee and eating a cafeteria tuna sandwich.

Brittany looks down at all the papers and contact prints. She plays with the paint marker in her hand and turns the contact print around for Maribel to see.

"Oh..." she says. "It's work stuff."

Maribel peers at the rows of photographs in front of her. "You're a photographer?" she asks as Santana's head quirks up in interest. "Last time we talked you were majoring in journalism."

"I did," she says, not mentioning that the last time they talked was when Brittany was in her Sophomore year. "I minored in photography. I was going to be a photojournalist but I kind of just... fell into this. I used to do like... weddings and stuff. It paid well... but then I had an exhibition and this agency put me on its books and I kind of do a little of everything. Mostly stuff for magazines, really. Photoshoots for bands and models and stuff. This is actually for this guy I worked with last week. His name is Arnie Fink. He's a singer. The pictures were for his debut album."

Maribel's about to comment when—

"_You're _the one doing Arnie's cover photos?"

Brittany's head jerks up to look at Santana and she pauses before taking back the contact from Maribel before handing it to Santana with a nod. Santana takes it and barely looks at them before looking back up at her.

Santana smiles a little. "I—I produced his album."

Something nags in Brittany's chest. It feels like the universe or fate or something.

"Small world," she whispers.

Santana swallows.

/

As the days go on, Brittany's role gets bigger.

She stays in Lima and sleeps in a crappy motel. She cancels work with famous artists to take coffee and sandwiches to Santana and Maribel in a hospital at all hour of the day. Sam calls her yelling and her agent gets mad at her but she doesn't care. This is more important.

She wouldn't want to miss this, no matter how sad everything is.

Brittany knows how close Santana was to her grandmother.

She remembers the night Santana's grandmother asked her to leave. Santana cried herself to sleep that night, buried in Brittany's arms. Brittany had promised her that her grandmother would see sense one day but now she feels like a liar because she knows that'll never be true...

Sure, they're sitting in the same room again but her grandmother's stroke was so severe that the doctors don't think she'll ever be able to recover. She's conscious but she can't speak. She doesn't know where she is or that Santana's there with her, or even who she is. It's too late and Brittany can see the strain in Santana's face that knowing that brings.

"Can I get you anything?" she asks one day when they're finally alone in the room with her abuela.

Santana looks up and smiles, shakes her head. "I'm good."

Brittany's hand moves without thinking after that. She presses it to the back of Santana's head and smooths it down over her curls until she feels Santana sigh and sees her eyes flutter closed. Brittany's hand pulls away quickly but it's too late.

"Sorry," she mutters, embarrassed.

Santana shakes her head and when she speaks her voice is strained. "It's fine," she says.

But something tells Brittany that it's more than fine.

It makes her smile.

/

They sort of avoid each other for a few days after that. They kind of just co-exist in this weird little normality that they've made for themselves since her grandmother was admitted to hospital. She keeps bringing them coffee and sandwiches, but avoids being left alone in a room with Santana and doesn't really acknowledge her. It isn't fair to do this when her grandmother's sick.

Things go on like that until Maribel calls her in the middle of the night, asking her if she'll come pick them up and take them to the hospital. Her voice is rushed but she says something about another stroke and that she doesn't trust herself to get them there safe while she's panicking this much.

All she has to do is to mention how she would ask Santana but she's a mess and Brittany's there.

She doesn't even change out of her pajamas, just pulls on her coat and jumps in the car. She rushes them to the hospital and drops them off at the entrance before she goes to find somewhere to park.

She finds them fifteen minutes later, talking to a doctor. His face is stricken and she hears mentions of surgery and bleeding and stays back. This is for family, not her.

But she stays there with them, anyway and watches over them, bundled up in their coats. Brittany sits away from them and watches, jumps when they jump and fetches them coffee.

It's not until seven am that the doctor comes back. He's scrubbed up and he doesn't look any better than he did before. He pauses but then shakes his head woefully and Brittany doesn't know what to do, not when Maribel's hands cover her face or when Santana collapses into sobs.

The doctor leaves and Maribel tries to hold Santana but she won't let her. She pushes her away as her sobs grow louder and it almost hurts to listen to them. They get deeper and more guttural and Brittany feels like all Santana's sadness is coming up at once as they choke from her. She can't stand it. Maribel can't stand it. It makes her cry harder because Santana's so upset.

Brittany steps forward when Maribel reaches for her. She wants to tell her that she's sorry but she can't quite manage to find the words when Santana's crying so loud. Maribel grips at her hand to grab her attention and she has to struggle to hear.

"You try," she begs. "Please, you have to try, before she does something stupid."

Brittany nods and it takes her a moment before she approaches Santana and lets her hand fall to her shoulder. Santana shrugs her away but Brittany knows exactly how to handle her. She spent years learning how to love Santana and make her feel safe.

She pulls at her and grabs at her hands, holds them away from her body as she pulls Santana into her. She tugs until Santana's body presses against hers, until she can feel the whole warmth of her body against the whole of her own. It takes her breath away but she pushes past it, even as her jaw trembles with the need to whimper. She doesn't think about consequences as she does what she has to do, just what she know will happen. She presses her cheek to Santana's and chokes back a sobs at how soft it really still is as she wraps Santana's arms around her and urges her to hold tight.

"I got you, I got you," she whispers, her hand reaching to stroke the back of her head. "Hold on. I got you... I'm here."

The words work and Santana clings to her, presses into her and it shouldn't feel so wonderful but it does.

/

She moves out of the hotel later that afternoon because, with Mr. Lopez still having to work, there's no one to look after them. The rest of their family won't get here for another couple of days and they shouldn't have to worry about anything. They shouldn't have to concern themselves with anything but how they feel.

Maribel tells her she can sleep in the guest room, but Brittany knows that she won't.

Well, she could try, but not really. It feels weird.

Like sleeping in her kitchen or on the roof. It feels wrong to sleep anywhere but the one room she knows she can.

She settles on the couch and snuggles up with a blanket. It doesn't matter if she's uncomfortable or if she doesn't sleep. She likes three am infomercials.

That's until she hears crying coming from upstairs.

Familiar crying.

She doesn't pause before she gets up.

/

Santana stops when she taps on her bedroom door and Brittany can tell she's trying to pretend she's asleep.

"I know you're awake," she whispers and then opens the door.

Santana turns over onto her back and looks at the ceiling. It kills Brittany a little that she still only sleeps on one side. Seeing Santana's bed reminds her of how much she's missed this room.

She wanders in and lies down beside Santana without thinking.

Santana doesn't react, just lays there and keeps staring at her ceiling.

Brittany doesn't do anything. She just mirrors her and stares up at the ceiling too.

"Do you want to talk?" she asks eventually. Santana shakes her head. Brittany gulps. "Is there something specific you're upset about or is it just the whole... thing?"

There's silence for a long time, just breathing, and then a sob breaks through the air. Brittany turns her head and watches as Santana sobs, her entire body shaking as her face screws up in pain and regret. She doesn't know what she wants to do more, hold her or watch her.

She doesn't think she can hold her. She's not sure that she'll ever let go, so she watches her instead, wondering how she's always so annoyingly beautiful.

She watches until Santana slows down, until she's just silent and sniffing away the sobs. She watches her until she can't anymore and that's when Santana chooses to speak.

"Happy anniversary," Santana whispers brokenly and Brittany's eyes snap to her.

Tears stream down her cheeks and Brittany frowns in confusion until Brittany realizes what Santana's staring at.

For as long as Brittany can remember, she's always had one of those weird alarm clocks that beams the time up on the ceiling with a laser. They're for people who always have to know the time, even when they wake up in the middle of the night, and that's what she's looking at: the projection of the time and date. When Brittany sees what it says it all makes sense.

The realization makes her feel like her chest is turning inside out, like she's been kicked in the stomach.

"Oh," she whispers.

Santana chokes out another sob that ripples her body and makes it twitch as she tries to hold it back. "Seven years," she whispers. "We could have been together seven years," she says. "Back then... I thought I was going to be married to you by now..."

Brittany flinches and breathes away her tears. "So, why aren't you?"

"Because I... " Santana whimpers. "Because I... I fucked it up."

"You ran away."

"Because I fucked everything up..." Santana reiterates.

Brittany shakes her head. "You didn't," she whispers. "I would have..." she swallows back tears. "I just needed a minute to figure out what I was going to do. I needed just a little while to be mad at you, but then I would have forgiven you and we would have been okay but you _ran away_. I would have forgiven you."

Santana shakes her head. "You wouldn't have."

"Yes, I would have," Brittany nods. "I would."

"Well, you shouldn't have."

Brittany sits up and shakes her head. "I would have married you, Santana. There and then, if you'd have asked me. I would have made you my wife because then you wouldn't have been able to leave me." She sits up and looks down at Santana. "It would have been us... forever. It could have been us."

Santana looks her in the eye for the first time in what feels like forever. Brittany shrugs.

"But you did, Santana," she whispers. "You left me and you broke my heart."

She feels Santana's eyes on her all the way to the door.

/

She doesn't sleep after that. She just sits in the living room in the dark, watching infomercials on mute and thinking about things that she's spent too many hours thinking about before.

Her fingers toy with the key necklace around her neck thoughtlessly and she jumps when she hears Santana speak from behind her.

"If I broke your heart," she whispers. "then why are you here, Brittany. Why would you do this? Why didn't you just try and forget like I did? Why didn't you just try and move on? Why did you come here?"

Brittany doesn't turn her body, just her head. Santana's stood there, in the doorway, far enough away that she can make a quick escape if she needs to.

"You don't get it, do you?" Brittany mutters, eying her a little, from her cute little snowflake pajama pants to her too-big sweatshirt. Her eyes are tired behind her glasses and Brittany has to close her eyes remembering the nights when she would wake up and find those eyes staring back at her like they couldn't even believe Brittany was real. "I loved you, Santana," she breathes. "I loved you and I had every intention of spending the rest of my life with you. It's what I wanted. Me and You. Forever. So you slept with someone else? What would that matter when we were going to be together for the rest of our lives? It was one mistake. I knew you'd never do it again. I could tell... just by the look on your face when you told me. But then you left and you didn't come home... you left me and you didn't even tell me why... I didn't have any answers. I spent six years _wondering _where the girl I loved was. I spent six years scared _shitless _that something would happen to you before I got to see you again, that you could be dead in a ditch somewhere and I would never know why you left me."

Santana takes in a deep breath and Brittany thinks she might start speaking but she doesn't. Instead, Brittany goes on.

"Did you just not care?" she asks, her voice cracking. "Was it me? Did you just... not love me? Did you just not want to love me anymore?"

"_Brittany_..." Santana breathes and it's a warning. She sniffles and Brittany feels her move closer. "I thought..." She starts. "I thought... I thought that you hated me," she admits. "Or that if you didn't then that you would eventually. I didn't want to stick around and watch that. I didn't want to wait and watch the only person who has ever made me feel loved stop loving me. I thought if I left, it would be easier for both of us because then I only had to deal with one of us hating me for what I did," She chokes. "I thought you'd forget about me eventually. I prayed that you would."

Brittany turns around to her and shakes her head.

For the first time, she's furious. Six years and, finally, she's truly overwhelmed by the anger she feels to the point that she almost feels like she can't do anything about it. Instead, she stands up and storms away without another word.

Leaving Santana behind in the living room, she paces the hall for a minute before she snatches her coat and her keys and heads outside into the cold. She marches towards her car and paces again when she reaches the back, not sure if she wants to do this.

She's glad when Santana follows her because that seals the deal. She knows it's the only way she'll ever be able to explain. Santana watches her from the door as she pops the trunk and Brittany's glad because she wants her to watch. She wants her to see.

Brittany hefts the wooden trunk out of the back of her car and grunts as she carries it back over to Santana in the doorway. She drops it in front of her and rubs at her cold nose for a second. She then quickly unhooks the gold chain from around her neck before kneeling down to unlock it. Santana watches her all the while, eyes narrow and curious as Brittany struggles with shaking hands.

She lifts the top of the trunk until Santana can see inside then stands up. The sobs come to as her anger manifests itself in a way that she can manage.

"One thousand, seven hundred and forty-two letters," she struggles, looking directly at Santana. She holds out the key to her but Santana doesn't take it. "They're all yours," she goes on, shaking the key. "They're all addressed to you."

When Santana still doesn't take the key, looking down into the trunk with a parted mouth, Brittany reaches forward and and shoves it into her hand.

"I numbered them, if you want to read them," she says and then backs away, stepping towards her car. She looks back only once before jumping in the driver's seat and leaving.

"I'm sorry about the spelling."

/

She has the first letter memorized.

_My beautiful Santana_, it starts.

_I've tried everything but this is the only way I can speak to you. I don't know why you left or why you don't want to speak to me but I am glad that you're safe, that you're not alone and that you have a warm bed to sleep in because mine feels cold without you. My life feels cold without you and I miss you more than words can ever express. I wish that you would come back and tell me why you left. If you think I am angry about what you did then you should know that I'm not. I'm just disappointed and sad now that you're not here and want you to come home to me. I don't know what I'm supposed to do without you. _

_I don't know what I did to make you leave. Sometimes I wake up at night and think you're still here but you're not. I'm scared that you've stopped loving me because why else would you go? You can tell me if you have. I would understand. I would try to understand. I would accept it. _

_I would try to stop loving you too. If you wanted me to. It would be hard but I would do it for you. _

_I would do anything for you. _

_All my love, always and forever,_

_Your Brittany xx _

/

She drives around for hours. She drives until the sun comes up and then she drives some more, the thought of her letters finally being read making her feel like her safety net has been taken from beneath her. It feels like she's falling, falling, falling and she doesn't know if anyone's going to be there when she lands to catch her.

She sits and drinks coffee in a diner, not caring that she's in her pajamas and a coat. No one looks at her funny anyway.

She scribbles patterns on a napkin and waits for something she's not sure of. She doesn't know what happens now.

"Here you are," someone says and Brittany looks up at the voice to find Maribel looking at her. She taps Brittany's coffee cup when the waitress heads over to them and she nods before turning back to the counter as Maribel sits down. "I've been looking for you."

"You didn't need to do that," Brittany mutters.

Maribel clicks her tongue. "Yes, I did," she chastises. "I couldn't have one of you sat sobbing in her bedroom and the other missing. I've already lost a mother this week. I don't think I can take much more."

Brittany drops her chin. "Sorry."

"Don't be silly," Maribel sighs as the waitress hands her a cup of coffee. "It's about time someone gave my daughter the kick up the ass she needed." She pauses. "Still, I don't think it would have worked coming from anyone but you."

Brittany sits quietly and sips her fresh cup of coffee once the waitress has poured it.

"You wrote a lot of letters," Maribel comments when they're alone again.

Brittany nods. "She was the only one who ever understood. Everything made more sense once I'd told her but I don't think she ever got that. It was the only way I could think of talking to her that wouldn't ruin anything else."

Maribel nods and reaches for her hand. "You should know that she genuinely thought you hated her. She was so sure of it I thought that it might kill her. She said that it was the only thing you could feel after what she did."

"I didn't," Brittany whispers, her voice wilting as she begins to cry again. "I don't. I can't..."

Maribel's grip on her hand tightens.

She sits with Brittany until she stops crying.

/

Maribel leaves her at the diner with errands to run and urges her to return to the house.

She does and enters timidly, not sure where Santana might be. When she isn't downstairs, Brittany creeps slowly upstairs and stops outside Santana's bedroom door, waiting. There's no noise coming from inside but she knocks on the door anyway. When Santana doesn't respond, she pushes the door open anyway.

The drapes are closed and Santana has her bedside lamp on. She's laying on her bed and there's two piles of letters laying beside her: ones that she's read and ones that she hasn't. There's still a lot in the trunk and Brittany rests her shoulder against the doorjamb as she stares at Santana.

She stares at the ceiling and there's a letter pressed to her chest. Tears coat her cheeks to the point where it looks like she's given up wiping them away.

"Why couldn't you just hate me?" she asks in a whisper. "Anyone else would have just... hated me."

Brittany doesn't answer, she just steps over to the bed and gathers the unread pile of letters in her arms and puts them back in the chest before she grabs the read ones and piles them onto Santana's empty dresser top. Then, she lays down beside Santana on her side, looking at her as she stares up at the ceiling.

"I could never hate you for anything," she whispers.

Santana takes a deep breath. "But then... why—why would you forgive me for what I did? How could you do that?"

Brittany shrugs. "I just could," she whispers. "I guess that makes me stupid, huh?" Santana looks at her then and looks like she doesn't know what to say. Brittany rakes her eyes over her features, relishes her expression. "Oh well," she breathes. "I'll be stupid."

Santana looks away and back at the ceiling. Brittany keeps watching her.

"Can you even remember her?" she asks, eyes narrowed. "Can you even remember the girl? Can you even remember what happened?"

Santana takes a deep breath and thinks. After a moment, she shrugs her shoulders. "I missed you... so much. I just wanted to give it up and come home. I wanted to come home to you. I wasn't happy there. I wasn't happy. You weren't there." Brittany holds her breath. "But you wanted this for me and I didn't want to let you down." Her eyes narrow. "I went to a party. I started drinking and I didn't stop. All I remember is waking up and I was naked and she was naked. She tried to kiss me and I pushed her away. I couldn't remember any of it. I ran out and I threw up. I spent the whole weekend trying to figure out what happened but I couldn't remember. I still can't now."

Brittany's face softens. _Silly_, she thinks as she looks at her. _So silly. The silliest. _

"You left me for something you can't even remember," she points out and Santana frowns before nodding her head. "I would have forgiven you," Brittany whispers. "And you could have come home. If you weren't happy in Louisville, you should have come home."

"I couldn't let you forgive me," Santana tells her and she looks at her again. "I wanted to make you proud of me

Brittany sinks her head into the pillow a little more. "I already was," she whispers. "I still kind of am."

Brown eyes widen in shock, searching out her own. "Yeah?"

Brittany searches back before nodding. "Yeah," she breathes.

Santana shifts closer almost subconsciously. "I'm sorry I hurt you for so long," she whispers. "I'm sorry I left you. I'm sorry I never explained."

Brittany reaches for her and shakes her head, eyes narrowing as she shifts closer too. "Explain now," she urges her.

"What do you want to know?" Santana asks.

Brittany shrugs. "I just want to know why you left me..." she breathes. "I want to know why I wasn't good enough."

Santana shakes her head and scoffs. "It had nothing to do with you," she chokes. "It was me," she whispers. "How was I supposed stick around knowing that I cheated on the most perfect person in the world?" she asks. "Even if you had forgiven me, how could I stay with you with everyone knowing what I'd done and thinking I didn't deserve you back?"

Brittany takes a moment and absorbs her answer. She thinks of everything she wondered in all those letters, all the times she thought Santana didn't love her anymore. She thinks of all the pain and the hurt she felt and it feels too good to know that Santana was probably feeling it just as much. She wants to cry because she thinks they spent six years missing and needing each other for no reason.

She does cry because the sting in her heart is slowly reducing to an ache and she's just sick of it. She's sick of all of it.

"Britt Britt..." Santana whispers desperately and then Brittany doesn't know what she's doing. She acts without thinking, purely on instinct. Her body moves closer and her hands grasp at Santana, palms cupping her cheeks as she pulls her closer until their foreheads press together. The relief at hearing that name, that perfect little name that she hasn't been called in so long, overwhelms her. She feels every piece of armor left on her body disappear into dust, every tense muscle relax. She sobs at the sound of it, at the feel of it slipping things into place in her chest, and traces her fingers over Santana's face, remembering.

Brown eyes—brown, beautiful, tired and honest eyes, flutter closed at the touch.

"We were supposed to be together forever," Brittany whispers against a hiccup. Santana's hand instantly reaches to cover the one on her face. "You left me and I should have moved on because I was so mad at you for leaving me. I should have moved on and I should have fell out of love with you but I didn't. I didn't."

Santana searches her face and clutches her nearer. "You didn't?"

Brittany shakes her head, hopeless. "I fell more in love with you," she gasps out. "You weren't there and I needed you. I never realized how much I needed you until I kept falling more and more in love with you..."

Santana whimpers and it takes a moment before she can speak, before she can find the right words.

"What do you want from me?" she begs desperately. "Why are you here? Why are you doing this?"

Brittany looks at her in disbelief and lets her eyes close until the tears squeeze down her cheeks.

"Because I love you," she whispers and it feels like she can breathe again the minute the words leave her. "Because I've been waiting for you to come home... I've been waiting six years for you to come home to _me _but now I can't wait anymore. I can't do it, Santana. I can't."

Santana reaches for her face and pulls her close, stroking hair from her face. Brittany melts at the touch, drowns in her wide open eyes.

"But I convinced myself I would never be allowed this again," she whispers. "I told myself that I would never be lucky enough to get you back, so I stayed away. No one's that lucky. No one's this lucky."

"But I'm yours," Brittany sobs. "This has nothing to do with luck. I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours." Her fingers reach to the back of Santana's head and tangle in her unruly dark curls. They feel like the strings that tether her to the universe. "I belong with you. I want to be with you. I want _you._"

"You do?"

"I always have," she breathes, tugging her nearer until their lips are almost touching."I always will."

"Britt Britt..." Santana whimpers again.

Brittany's heart thuds wildly in her chest. Santana's does, too. She's so close that Brittany can almost feel it trying to knock against her own. Except, Santana doesn't look relieved to feel that thud again. She looks pained, terrified, and Brittany hushes her gently, desperate to soothe her.

She presses her nose to Santana's lips to silence her, brushes it against them in the same way she used to in order to get her to stop talking, to calm her. It works, just like it always used to, and Santana vibrates with the feel of it under Brittany's palms. The touch is like a balm to her pain.

"Just tell me you still love me," Brittany begs, voice too quiet to be heard, only felt.

Santana's eyes flutter and she leans in a little, catching her bottom lip over Brittany's nose for a second time.

"I will _never_ stop loving you," she says and they're soul words, deep and dark and coming up from the truest, most beautiful parts of her.

Her lips kiss Brittany's cheeks and Brittany's head lolls towards her, desperate to just seep into her. "Tell me you'll never leave me again."

Santana kisses her nose, her ear, her eyelid, her chin. "I will follow you wherever you go," she promises, breathing her in. "I will never leave you. Ever."

Brittany sighs in relief. Her thumb slips around to trace over Santana's top lip. "Kiss me, please," she whispers.

Santana softly smiles against her mouth at the words.

"Okay," she kisses. "Anything for you."

/

They don't kiss for long.

After six long and excruciating years, it's difficult to not just stop and stare at each other, wondering if it's all real.

Brittany strokes the backs of her fingers over Santana's face and Santana lets her, content to just watch Brittany and be touched.

"I missed you," she tells her after a little while, so softly that, for a moment, Brittany thinks she imagined it. She flattens her palm against Santana's cheek again until Santana nuzzles into it, reaching up hold it against her, before turning to press a kiss deep into Brittany's palm. "I missed you so much."

Brittany shifts a little closer until she can hook her arm under Santana's head and bury her hand into her hair, stroking it. "I missed you, too," she tells her quietly. "Every day."

Santana opens her mouth to speak but stops when her bedroom door opens.

They both turn to find Maribel stood their expectantly but she jumps a little when she sees them there, curled together. They begin to pull away from each other but Maribel jolts forward.

"No, no, no..." she says quickly. "Don't get up. It's fine. I was just making sure you were both okay. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Brittany offers her a smile and shakes her head. "You didn't. I should probably get some sleep anyway."

She makes to climb off the bed but Santana pulls her back.

"Stay," she begs in a whisper. Out of the corner of her eye, Brittany sees Maribel leaving the room quietly. "You can sleep," Santana nods. "You can sleep here and I'll move to the chair. Just... stay. Please."

Brittany presses a kiss between her eyes and strokes her nose against the same spot as she moves back. "Okay," she nods. "Yes."

/

She sleeps better than she's done in six years the minute that she settles under the covers of Santana's old bed.

Santana sits in her chair opposite her, watching her carefully as she quickly drifts off to sleep. It makes Brittany feel safe knowing that she's close.

Before she properly drops into the world of her dreams, she swears she feels a soft hand stroking across her forehead and a sweeping kiss being pressed to her forehead as someone pulls the covers tighter around her.

"I love you," she hears whispered against her skin.

It's the last push she needs to fall asleep.

/

For the first time in six years, she wakes up thinking Santana's there to find that she really is.

It's disorientating for a moment because she sort of began judging the truth of her reality by the existence of Santana within it. It takes her a while to realize that she's really there, that her head has somehow found itself pillowed in Santana's lap, and that she isn't dreaming. Santana smiles as Brittany touches her face and strokes over her features. She chuckles a little when Brittany grabs at the hand Santana has resting atop her head and presses her mouth to each fingertip. She clutches it and holds it against her chest as she turns into Santana's stomach and sighs.

"Aren't you sleepy?" she mumbles into Santana's t-shirt.

Santana shifts a little until her back is flat to the bed. Brittany welcomes the move and turns over until her cheek is flat to Santana's stomach, one hand bunched in her shirt as her blue eyes blink up at her.

"Not sleepy," Santana whispers and Brittany has to struggle not to fall back to sleep when Santana's thumb strokes over her eyebrows, down her nose and over her pouted top lip. "I've been trying to get through your letters."

Brittany's eyes open a little at that. "How far d'you get?" she asks.

Santana's smile struggles to reach the very corners of her face. "You just had sex with Sam for the first time." Brittany tenses and looks up at Santana and finds her looking like she's trying to hold back any sort of reaction. She looks away for a second and swallows visibly. "I'm not going to keep reading and find out that you're married and have three kids with him, am I?"

Brittany blinks before slowly shaking her head. "He's with Sugar," she tells her quickly. "He's with Sugar and he always said he wouldn't do that to us."

Santana frowns. "Do what?"

Brittany swallows. "Get in the way of us starting a family together."

Santana's eyes glisten and she tilts her head to the side a little, contemplating the words until a tear rolls down her cheek, realizing their possibility and Sam's unwavering belief in them, his kindness.

Brittany blinks slowly and plays with Santana's shirt. "What about you?"

Santana frowns. "What about me what?"

"You don't have a wife in the attic or something, do you?"

Santana laughs and that's enough for Brittany, but she shakes her head anyway.

"I couldn't. I wouldn't," she says, stroking blonde hair from blue eyes. "I wouldn't dare."

Brittany blinks. "Me either."

Santana's body relaxes and Brittany gets the feeling that those words were all she needed to hear.

/

They lay in Santana's bed for as long as they can.

They don't really know what the time is or what's going on around them but it doesn't matter.

Time isn't really something that matters anymore. It only mattered when they were apart, when they needed something to measure the space between them. Time doesn't matter anymore because they're together.

Brittany lays there, watching Santana as she reads her letters, and has never felt more content. She gets to watch a million emotions wash Santana's face from one second to another. She gets to see her smile, see her blush, see her cry. She gets to see all the things she's missed, all the reactions to her words she never thought she would get to witness, and they're better than she ever expected.

Like, she loves how, occasionally, a letter will affect Santana more than the rest, making her set it down so that she can curl around Brittany's body instead, whispering things against Brittany's skin that don't really make sense anymore. She loves how sometimes Santana won't want to hold her but will want to kiss her instead, her mouth so sure and furious that it hurts when she pulls away. She loves how reverent Santana is of each letter, slipping each one back in its envelope when she's done, like every word matters.

But, mostly, she just loves how, more than anything, Santana constantly stops reading just to look at her, staring at her like Brittany can't possibly be real. She loves how she'll tilt her head to the side a little and smile before continuing to read. But, sometimes, she doesn't. Sometimes, she stops reading again and leans over Brittany to get a better look at her, searching.

Those times, she's barely able to contain the smile that covers her face.

Those times, she'll kiss Brittany's nose and let her eyes flutter closed at the taste of her skin.

"Thank you," she'll whisper against Brittany's skin until Brittany's confused "Your welcome" gets lost into a kiss.

/

They fall asleep a mess of tangled limbs and wake up closer together before falling back into slumber. Their noses squash and their breaths mingle.

Brittany thinks she could die right here, right now, with Santana sleepily mumbling her love when the sun flickers into her eyes through half-open blinds.

She knows it would mean dying happy.


	3. Chapter 3

They hide in Santana's room from the aunts and uncles and cousins that arrive on Friday afternoon.

Maribel lets them, happy just to see them content and together. She brings them plates of food made by distant relatives and spends sparse intervals of time sat on the edge of the bed regaining her breath from their overbearing presence.

They offer to come down and keep her company but she stops them, tells them that she wants them to stay up here and happy, just until the funeral tomorrow.

Brittany clutches Santana close at the mention of it and, once Maribel has gone, spends half an hour kissing Santana's face as slowly as she can, making sure she doesn't miss one tiny inch.

/

Santana doesn't sleep on Friday night, before the funeral.

She just keeps reading the letters until she's finished them all and then just starts reading some of them over again. She mouths some of Brittany's words out loud as Brittany dozes off to sleep and smiles from her place on Santana's shoulder, nodding along with her words.

She wakes up to find Santana watching her, glasses askew on her nose and her hand clutching Brittany's palm to the beating in her chest. She cups it there gently to her heart and Brittany feels like she's caught a butterfly in her hands. It flutters softly and she feels desperate to keep something so beautiful so close.

She's not used to feeling so breathless and sleepy at the same time.

"Hey," she mumbles, trying to blink away sleep. "Is it time to wake up?"

Santana breathes in slowly and smiles.

"Hi," she whispers and then shakes her head. "No. You should go back to sleep. It's still early."

Brittany nods and shifts closer, not needing to be told twice.

/

The funeral is sad and Brittany doesn't know what to do except hold Santana's hand in one hand and Maribel's in the other. Some of Santana's relatives give them disapproving looks but Santana doesn't see them or ignores them as she says goodbye to her grandmother for the last time. Brittany does and she scowls at them. Santana's already been punished enough for her so-called sins through losing her grandmother in every way she could without them glaring at her.

Maribel must see them too because she gives them permission to head back upstairs once they get back to the house. They collapse onto Santana's bed in their black clothes, exhausted and camouflaged against the sheets as they hold each other. For a second, Brittany wishes they could just disappear into them so that no one could ever find them.

It shouldn't shock her when Santana begins to weep, but it does. She wipes away the tears carefully until Santana's ready and then waits.

"I feel awful," she whispers.

Brittany nods and kisses her forehead. "That's understandable."

Santana shakes her head. "No, I mean... I feel awful because this whole last week has been the worst and best week of my life and I don't know if it's real or not, all I know is that I want it to be... so desperately... and that's awful. It's so selfish."

Brittany clicks her tongue and sighs. "It's okay," she whispers. "Just because she's gone doesn't mean you shouldn't be happy about this. I mean... you are happy, right?"

Santana turns to her and nods.

Brittany strokes down her neck. "You can be happy," she whispers. "But you can be sad too. You can be both. It's okay to be both. It's okay to be selfish sometimes, too."

Santana nods and closes her eyes. Brittany keeps stroking over her neck, her cheeks, her brow, until she feels Santana soften against the bed, her breath evening out.

/

Sam calls her for the first time in five days, late on Saturday night. The vibration of Brittany's phone in her pocket causes them both to wake up.

"What the heck is that?" Santana groans, shifting and curling into Brittany to avoid the unwanted interruption.

Brittany smiles and wants to stop searching the depths of her coat pockets and snuggle Santana more than she wants to speak to the person calling her. She almost does stop but then Santana's hands are searching in her pockets too and she's forced to. She doesn't want to find her phone then; she just wants Santana's hands to keep roaming her body without worry.

"Oh," Santana says when she disappointingly finds the phone and looks at the screen. "It's Sam."

Brittany takes the phone from her and clicks the accept button at the same time she presses a kiss to Santana's lips.

"Britt?"

She pulls back from Santana's mouth and turns to the phone. "Hey, Sammy," she says softly. "What's up?"

"Nothing," he says. "I was just checking to make sure you're okay."

Brittany shrugs out of her coat and tosses it off the side of the bed. She tucks the phone into the crook of her neck as she forces Santana out of hers. Santana smiles as she works at her buttons, watching her softly and holding the phone against her ear when she almost drops it.

"I'm fine," Brittany says. "Today was the funeral."

"Oh," Sam says, suddenly sombre. "Was it okay? Was Santana okay?"

"Ask her yourself," Brittany says before tossing the phone at Santana. She holds it like it's a hot coal for a moment before Brittany snatches it from her and presses it to her ear. Her other hand holds her head still with fingers tangled in her hair.

"Hi, Sam..." Santana says timidly. "How are you?"

Brittany leans in close to listen and hears Sam pause. "I'm good," he says. "It feels weird to hear you call me Sam, though."

All three of them giggle at his words and Brittany leans in, pressing her forehead against Santana's as tears instantly spring to her eyes.

"Good to know, Trouty," she sniffs. "Really good to know."

/

They talk for a while. Sam doesn't mention anything about them but Brittany can tell—has learned from years of living with him—when he's grinning while speaking. It makes her keep rolling her eyes and scoffing at his questions because she knows he's teasing.

"When are you coming home?" he says when there's not much left to say.

Santana's eyes snap to Brittany's like she was wondering the same thing. Brittany sighs.

"I don't know yet," she whispers, talking to both of them at the same time. "I haven't decided yet."

"Britt, your agent—"

"I know," she cuts him off. "But not yet... not yet."

/

She's almost back to sleep again when the thought occurs to her.

"Where do you live now?"

Santana takes in a deep breath and yawns. "San Francisco," she says. "My boss has his studio there. I have a little one bedroom in Berkeley."

Brittany shifts closer and waits for Santana's eyes to open and look at her.

"I live in Columbus," she whispers sadly.

Santana leans forward and kisses her softly. She pulls back and looks at her for a moment before shrugging.

"I could live in Columbus," she says before she leans back in and kisses Brittany slower, softer, deeper.

Brittany lets her, unable to find another response.

/

They're half dressed—Brittany having removed her tights and unbuttoned her shirt, and Santana having decided that her pants were too tight to remain on anymore—when Brittany pulls back to look at Santana curiously.

Santana, dizzy from kissing, blinks at the interruption as her hand continues curling circle patterns into the base of Brittany's back with her fingers.

Brittany smiles at the sight of her and can't help but kiss her just once more.

"Or I could live in Berkeley," she whispers against Santana's mouth.

The patterns stop and Santana's eyes widen as she pulls back from the kiss a little more harshly than Brittany expected. They both ignore it and Santana gulps as she forcefully tries to renegotiate herself without reacting to Brittany's words. Soon, the patterns restart and brown eyes study her curiously.

"Why..." she begins quietly. "Why would you do that?"

Brittany sweeps waves of dark brown hair from Santana's eyes and looks at her softly.

"Because I want to..." Brittany whispers, not wanting to scare her. She strokes their noses together because she can feel the tension in Santana's jaw, see the disbelief in her eyes, and wants it to go away. It takes a little while but, eventually, Santana softens with a sigh and that's when Brittany knows she can continue. "Because I hate the thought of you spending the rest of your life doing what I want just because you feel like you owe me something for everything that's happened."

"I don't mind," Santana admits in a whisper. "I would do it. If it means I get you, I'll do it."

Brittany shakes her head. "I don't want you to have to do it. I want us to be adults. I want us to talk about things and be equal. I want us to be honest and realistic. I don't want you to give up the life you've built just because of me."

Santana's face saddens and she looks away from Brittany. Brittany cups her face in both hands and lifts it to look at her but she won't. She stays with her eyes dark and downcast until Brittany nudges against her cheek and whispers her name. When she looks up, her eyes are glassy with tears.

"It wasn't much of a life," she whispers, breathless.

Brittany stops her words with a stroke of her nose against her lips. It works. It always works. Brittany wants it to always work for the rest of their lives because she hates it when Santana talks this sadly.

"I don't care," she sighs. "It was still a life. It was still _your _life."

Santana looks at her and any worries Brittany might have had about trust disappear in the split second their eyes catch. She sees it all there, clear as day, when Santana looks at her. In that moment, she knows, so surely, that they'll be together forever and it makes her heart want to sing and cry at the same time.

"But it was sad," Santana breathes and she hiccups on the end of the last word.

Brittany smiles and laughs at Santana again.

_Silly_, she thinks. _So silly. _

"Do you really think that mine was any better?" she asks quietly. Santana looks at her, really looks at her, and looks only the slightest bit fearful when she softly shakes her head. Brittany smiles at her instantly. "And that's what I'm saying... I want a happy life. I want to build a happy life... with you. Together."

The shift Santana makes towards her is so soft and subtle Brittany wouldn't notice it if she weren't already so close. She feels the length of Santana's body instantly, the warmth of it, the new-old shape of it she still isn't quite used to yet. She feels the steady thud of her heart, calm and beautiful, and can't help the flutter of her eyes.

It feels like home.

"I want that too," Santana breathes and Brittany only realizes what she said when she feels Santana smiling broadly and leaning in closer, nudging her nose to get her attention.

Brittany instantly smiles back but it's lost quickly, disappearing into the kiss Santana drops onto her lips.

/

Maribel wakes them early—too early—on Sunday morning, to tell them that she and Mr. Lopez are going to stay with one of Santana's aunts for a few days so that they can decide what will happen with her grandmother's things.

Santana—too sleepy with her body curled and pillowed against Brittany's—nods in understanding before falling instantly back to sleep.

Maribel kisses her on the forehead with a chuckle, pulling the covers up around her before she turns her attention to a sleepy-eyed Brittany.

"You'll stay with her?" she asks quietly. Brittany feels like she's being asked two questions at once. She nods anyway because the answer will always be yes to both. Maribel kisses her forehead then, too. "It's about time," she whispers around a chuckle before she soften. "Thank you, mija," she says. "I'll call you later."

It's not until the door has slammed behind the ruckus of the last of Santana's family leaving and Brittany's almost back to sleep, that Santana shifts until her nose is pressed against Brittany's ear.

"She called you 'mija'," Santana whispers shakily into her ear and Brittany blinks, confused by the emotion in Santana's voice.

She turns and frowns, not understanding the tears in Santana's eyes either.

"Is that bad?" she asks.

Santana shakes her head and cups the back of her neck until their foreheads press. "She called you her daughter," she explains. "She called you..."

"Oh," Brittany whispers and feels tears in her eyes too. "Oh."

Santana nods and smiles and Brittany never wants to leave this bed.

/

After that, she calls her agent and explains to him that she had to go home because of a family tragedy.

It doesn't feel like a lie and it's worth it just to see the way that Santana reacts to Brittany calling her family her own.

Her agent is pretty apologetic after that and says that he'll handle her clients until she's ready to come back to work. He tells her to take her time and send him an email when she's ready but Brittany's too busy watching Santana watch her, admiring the sight of Santana's fingers against the skin of her ankle, stroking there.

/

It's nice to watch the tension and worry ebb away from Santana's body as she begins to calm.

It feels good to talk to her and find out everything that she missed when they weren't together.

As Santana makes her the best breakfast she's possibly ever eaten in her life, she learns that Santana's first job in New York was in a hotel, working as a kitchen assistant and learning how to make every breakfast food anyone could ever want.

"I hated it," she tells Brittany, who sits on the kitchen counter watching her spin around the kitchen to grab eggs and flour. "But, looking back, knowing how to make good breakfast helped."

Brittany laughs but those words give her an unsettling feeling. She wonders how many girls Santana's made breakfast for. It makes her feel sad in a way she doesn't want to feel. Santana must notice because she steps up to her and presses a hand to her knee, a hand to her chin.

"Hey," she whispers, turning off the burner. "What are you thinking about?"

Brittany shakes her head but Santana frowns and steps closer. Brittany guesses that there's some things it's impossible to forget, like how to read each other, because Santana looks at her like she already knows what's wrong. She shakes her head again and tries to laugh it off.

"Nothing... I'm just..." she shakes her head. "Being silly."

"Well, try me..." Santana says softly. She leans forward and kisses her carefully. "I doubt you are."

Brittany wipes a hand over Santana's cheek as their foreheads rest together. "Did you make other girls breakfast?" she asks lowly.

Santana tenses but she softens quicker than Brittany thought she would and laughs. Brittany looks up at her through her eyelashes, cheeks pink, and furrows her brow in confusion.

Santana stops laughing and shrugs instead, her face growing sombre, sad almost.

"It took me two years to even think about dating someone," she mutters, smiling through embarrassment. "I was in Seattle and I was working at a radio station. It was the first time I'd ever really settled since I left. I worked at the hotel for about five months before I tried to forge some sort of musical career." She rolls her eyes. "I was a studio backing singer for a while, then a tour backing singer for some crappy pop singer. I hated it—she was awful—so I left mid tour and stayed in Seattle. I was sick of traveling and I saw this job advertised. I got it, stayed there, made friends." She laughs and her hands rest on Brittany's thighs. "Seattle was so fucking different and far away from Ohio that I thought I could start a life there. I thought I could forget."

Brittany looks down at that but Santana nudges her nose against her forehead and gives her a coaxing smile that asks her to keep listening. She does, glad when Santana holds her hand before she continues.

"I made friends and there was this girl who worked at the station. She pretty much asked me out within a month of me being there but I didn't want to..." She cups Brittany's cheeks when Brittany has to look away again and drags her gaze back. "She was the first person I told about you and she told me I should forget you, that I shouldn't sit on Facebook waiting for you to post something..."

Brittany struggles to breathe for a second at that but Santana's thumbs stroking over her cheeks pull her back. She hates the thought of Santana sitting there waiting for her to post something while she did the same. It teases of all the chances they missed. What if she'd just left Santana a message instead of being scared that she would run away again? Would things be different? She doesn't get to dwell too much on it because Santana moves closer.

"So I tried," she whispers sadly, her face stricken with concern and guilt. "I managed to date her for four months without sleeping with her and as soon as I did it felt so wrong that I got up the next morning, quit my job and moved back to New York. I spent a month on Kurt and Rachel's couch, crying and living on my savings."

She tries to laugh it off but it doesn't really work for either of them. Brittany doesn't realize she's crying until Santana's thumbs sweep over her cheeks again and again. She doesn't really feel sad, or angry or upset. Santana doesn't get that, though.

"I'm sorry," she whispers but Brittany shakes her head. She doesn't know how to explain that she's just relieved.

She leans forward and kisses Santana. "Keep going," she whispers.

Santana looks reluctant but she does what Brittany wants. Brittany's glad when she quirks a little smirk at what she says next.

"I got a job as some rich old bitch's assistant pretty quickly. I think she liked that I didn't take any shit and did as I was told." She shakes her head and laughs. "I got paid so much for that job. I think I was expected to get some penthouse apartment or something but I got a crappy apartment in Brooklyn near Rachel and Kurt." That makes her smile. "I liked having hard days and then having someone to go drink wine with. I think I liked the subway journeys too. It used to remind me of you, when you'd make up stories about people we saw at the mall when you got bored."

Brittany laughs. "I still do that," she whispers like it's a secret.

"Good," Santana whispers, like it shouldn't be, and pauses before continuing. "The woman I worked for was a journalist. She worked for one of the big glossy magazines. I _never _told her that I was gay and I remember she'd always ask me about what it was like to date men nowadays so I'd use whatever dilemma Rachel was going through that week in order to give her something to work with..." She trails off. "But don't tell Rachel about that; she'd kill me."

Brittany giggles. Santana smiles just a little at the sound of it. Her thumbs stroke the corners of Brittany's mouth when they quirk up.

"But, one day, my boss had to go to some music festival out west and she took me with her... said that she needed a young ear to help her..." She pauses and rolls her eyes. "She was seriously old. I think she spent the whole festival in the VIP section and sent me out to do her job, writing about the bands and stuff. It worked in my favor, though, I guess. A guy came up to me and asked what I was working on, so I told him that I was writing whatever bullshit my boss would want me to write. So, then, he asked me what I really wanted to write and I went on this epic speech about how awful this band was and, long story short, this guy gave me a paid internship at his record company."

Brittany gasps. "That's amazing," she says.

"I know," Santana nods. "Which was pretty good of him considering that I'd just completely tore his newest band's music a new asshole." Santana laughs when Brittany laughs out a gasp. "Once the year internship was over, he asked me to stay and moved me to San Francisco with him."

She shrugs and Brittany guesses that must be the end of the story. She looks at Santana and feels like she hasn't got the answers she was looking for. She brings Santana closer and studies her face, her own expression falling again.

"So... you didn't make many girls breakfast, then?" she asks softly.

Santana takes a deep breath and strokes her hand down Brittany's cheek. She doesn't look right at her and Brittany knows that the answer won't be the one she wants.

"Do you really want to know?" she asks quietly. Brittany swallows away the need to say no but nods anyway. Santana pulls her in closer and struggles a smile. "I spent a lot of time trying to get over you," she explains. "I did some stupid things with more people than I should have."

Brittany looks down and Santana lets her for a minute. She buries her nose against Brittany's hair before she urges Brittany to look at her.

"The relationships I had with those girls..." she starts when their eyes finally meet. "...weren't really breakfast material."

Brittany doesn't understand why those words make her feel better. A smile flickers at her lips a little and she leans closer. Her mouth parts to try and ask a question but she doesn't know what she wants to ask.

Santana smiles and nudges their noses together.

"So... to answer your question," she whispers around a coy smile. "You're the first girl I've ever made breakfast for... That's unless you count Kurt."

Brittany laughs a little too loudly at that. "So how has knowing how to make good breakfast helped?"

It's then that the smile on Santana's face falls and sadness seeps into her eyes. She takes in a deep breath and then strokes Brittany's hair out of her face, looks deep into her bright blue eyes, and smiles.

"It gave me something to get out of bed for," she whispers and Brittany gasps into her, their noses pressed together, as they both try not to cry.

Brittany sighs in relief when Santana pulls them into a kiss instead.

/

They tell each other stories.

They laugh.

They smile and hold each other as they utter secrets they've been keeping for years.

They kiss, but it still feels like they're both holding back on something, like there's still an unsure barrier between them that wasn't there all those years ago.

Well—it was... it just didn't last for long once they started kissing and figured out what that barrier was.

It feels like a cliché to say that she feels fifteen again but—with Santana writhing beneath her, their bodies pressed so closely together and their minds trying to control what they not-so-innocently want to do with them—that's completely true.

She does feel like she's fifteen again: guilty and shy and overcome with the desperate feelings she has buried inside of her. It's a fire that she didn't spend long trying to put out when she learned that fueling it made it feel better.

It's a feeling that she never thought she would ever get to feel again.

Mostly because doing _that _with Santana was something she spent so much time doing that she didn't think it was possible to be scared of doing it with her.

But it is.

She doesn't know what to do with it and she doesn't think Santana knows either because she keeps putting a stop to their kisses before anything like that can happen.

Like, right before it's too late to turn back, just when Brittany's skin begins to spark and she wants it... she wants it more than she wants anything else.

And, usually, Brittany would just keep kissing her, but now her brain goes into overdrive, wondering and worrying if it's too soon, if they should wait or if either of them really want to.

Except...

She knows she does.

She really wants to.

/

When she's falling back beside Santana, breathless and panting, for the sixth time, she wonders if maybe she should just stop trying, that maybe she's feeling things that Santana isn't.

That's until—

"Sorry," Santana whispers so quietly she thinks she's imagined it.

Brittany turns to her, her palm still pressed to her forehead, and narrows her eyes. "What?"

Santana rolls her eyes and makes herself look smaller. "I'm sorry," she repeats.

"For what?"

"Pushing you away," she says before her cheeks go dark, dark red and she turns away. "I'm really sorry," she breathes. "I just..."

Brittany frowns and rolls over, leaning over Santana as she pulls her back to look at her. She finds her crying.

"Don't do that," Brittany whispers. "Please don't do that."

Santana ends up crying more when she says that. Brittany clicks her tongue and decides to use her body like a blanket instead, covering Santana completely with her own body to make her feel safer. It used to work.

She squashes her nose against Santana's cheek and hushes her. Santana's arms wrap around her and hold her close against her shoulder blades, almost too tight, like Brittany might disappear. She stares up at the ceiling and her tears are silent, ashamed.

"I don't deserve that yet," she finally whispers.

Brittany doesn't get it. "What?"

Santana takes a couple of labored breaths to keep control "You," she breathes out brokenly. Her eyes close, her face screwing up in anguish, and she looks away again, sniffling a little before she forces herself to open her eyes and look back up the ceiling proudly. "I still feel dirty," she admits. "Just like I did that day I told you what I did. You keep touching me so softly and I just... I want to bathe in bleach or something because I feel dirty."

Brittany narrows her eyes.

_Silly_, she thinks. _So damn beautiful and silly. _

She pushes herself up on her arms until she's on all fours, hovering over her. She hates how small Santana suddenly makes herself look and loves how quickly she relaxes when Brittany leans down and kisses her how she wants to be kissed. She doesn't give her a choice to argue and dips her tongue into Santana's mouth, kisses her until Santana desperately follows her after her when she pulls away.

She kisses her again, deeper and needier, Santana's hot tongue stroking against her own as their breaths mingle together. Brittany kisses Santana until she desperately pulls away for breath and uses that as her opportunity to do what she's wanted since the first moment their lips touched again and kisses a sloppy path down Santana's neck. It's reverent at first and then open-mouthed, urgent, when she finally tastes still-perfect skin.

"Britt Britt..." Santana whimpers sadly. "Britt Britt... don't."

Brittany kisses her way back to Santana's mouth and then presses her lips hard against Santana's mouth.

"You don't taste dirty," she whispers. "You taste... you taste exactly the same." She shakes her head. "No," she whispers. "You taste better because... because I've missed you. You taste better because you're real and that's better than my memory."

Santana takes the next kiss breathlessly, her hands coming up to grip at Brittany cheeks to slow her down. "I cheated on you, I cheated on you..."

Brittany pulls away and can't help but feel a little irritated—not at Santana but of the demons inside of her that make her feel so bad about herself still. She lets her hand fist in the sheets beside Santana's head.

"Six years ago, Santana," she laughs. "Six years ago. Six fucking years ago. I know, I know, I know... But that's six years that I haven't made love to the girl—to the _woman_—that I'm in love with. And, maybe—in the grand scheme of the forever we're gonna have now—that doesn't seem like a long time... but it felt like _an eternity_. It felt like twenty lifetimes and now I have you back and your grandmother just died and anything could happen and if I get forever now then I'm not wasting it thinking about other girls touching you. I'm not."

Santana gulps and Brittany can't help but notice how the grip on her cheeks releases, turning into the gentle caress of Santana's thumbs.

She looks down at her and shrugs. "I am going to make love to you. I have to."

Santana stares at her for a second but then her mouth quirks slightly. "You have to, huh?"

Brittany nods and buries her face in Santana's neck, her hair, breathing her in. "I want to. I want to remember what it feels like..." she admits. "But I won't if you don't want me to."

Before she can stop her, Santana has Brittany pressed to the bed. She splutters and pushes a little as Santana half hovers above her but stops when a kiss is pressed gently to her lips. She freezes when Santana's hand slips from her shoulder, down her chest, until she can get to the buttons of Brittany's sleep shirt. Brittany watches curiously, admiring Santana's reverent fingers as they make light work of their task. She studies her firm hands as she runs them down further, over Brittany's legs, before she begins removing Brittany's socks.

"You don't remember what it feels like?" She asks as her fingers run back up Brittany's bare calves, over her knees.

Brittany gulps. "Kinda," she admits, pausing to swallow against the too-good sensation. "At first, I could remember it so much it hurt but then... the longer we were apart, the fuzzier it got."

Santana's hands drift up her thighs, beneath her shirt to her stomach. She pushes it apart slowly to reveal Brittany's abdomen and hips. When she leans down and presses a kiss to the spot just beside Brittany's bellybutton, Brittany's entire body jolts at the touch. When Santana does it again, her hands clutch into the sheets beside her and her eyes slam closed. She does it over and over and Brittany holds her breath, scared that Santana will stop if she gives the slightest reaction.

"I remembered every freckle," Santana whispers and Brittany isn't sure if it's her words or her actions that make her jump. Her nose strokes up over Brittany's stomach, moving upward and parting the fabric of Brittany's shirt as she goes higher and higher. Her fingers follow it so softly that it almost hurts. "I remembered every stomach twitch," she says as Brittany's stomach does just that. "I remembered the warmth of your skin... and how good it tastes..." Her lips press to the skin she reveals and Brittany can't breathe as she continues. "I remembered how soft you are..." Brittany's back arches gently off the bed when a finger traces softly around the curve of her breast beneath her shirt. A thumb follows it, sweeping the same line but gentler. "I remembered every pigment..." Her breathing is heavy as she pushes away fabric to reveal one of Brittany's breasts. Brittany's sure she's going to cry when a finger traces around her nipple. "of every _single_ inch of your skin..."

There's a gasp, and the definite feeling of a tear dripping onto her skin, when Santana leans forward to kiss the swell of her breast.

"It was _torture_," she breathes.

Brittany reaches out and grips her wrist, holding her touch where it is. "Santana..." she whispers. "Santana..." she says again when Santana just rests her cheek against her sternum. "Please look at me."

Santana shakes her head and all Brittany can do is feel her, laid there against her bare skin, sobbing silently.

"I tried to forget," she chokes out, her shoulders shaking. "I tried so hard, I tried so hard..." She nuzzles closer the harder she cries. "But you're in my head... You're in my head and you won't get out."

Brittany pulls at her, tugs at her until she's curled around her, face buried in her neck. Brittany holds her tightly because it's the only thing she can think to do.

"Some days I wouldn't sleep," Santana admits. "I couldn't because I used to hear your voice or wake up in the middle of the night and think you were laying beside me." Brittany's neck grows wetter and wetter. She holds Santana tighter as she sobs out her words. "I couldn't bear it. I couldn't bear it because I ruined it. It was my choice. I ended what we had, so I didn't get to think about you anymore... but I couldn't stop and then I used to hear you all the time."

Brittany squeezes her eyes closed because she doesn't want to cry. She doesn't want to cry.

Santana shifts and Brittany shivers when her warm lips brush over her ear. She braces herself as she hears Santana gulp, as she presses as close as possible so that no one else can hear.

"_You're the voice inside my head_..." she whispers and it breaks Brittany's heart."I'm so sorry."

She turns until their noses press and clutches Santana's cheek so that she doesn't look away. She can't see her through her teary eyes but she can make her out. "Why?" she asks, confused. "Why are you sorry?"

Santana shakes her head that she doesn't know and Brittany kisses her because Santana will always, always, always be the same silly, scared girl who cried when she told Brittany that she was her first everything. She kisses her and won't let Santana pull away. Instead, she pulls Santana atop her and wraps her arms around her, rubs at her shoulders to make her relax. She kisses Santana's neck until she squirms and then presses their foreheads together.

"Do you want me?" she asks breathlessly. Santana just looks at her. Brittany clutches at her cheek and kisses her furiously for a second, too hot and too wet to be so momentary. "Do you want me, Santana?"

Santana looks down between their bodies and nods guiltily.

It makes Brittany grip her harder and pull her into her body until she sees the light brighten behind her eyes milliseconds before they flutter closed.

"Then _have _me," she tells her sternly. "Have me."

/

It takes her a moment of looking, of staring, her brown eyes darker than Brittany can ever remember, before she does anything.

She expects to be ravaged with kisses or for their clothes to be ripped from their bodies. She expects fast and slow, gentle and rough, everything and nothing. She prepares herself for anything but, when Santana finally does something, she finds that all she can do is follow. She finds that she's still surprised and intrigued by what actually happens.

Santana sits up against her and pulls at her shoulders until she's sitting up too. Her hands instantly brace themselves around her, one on her hip and the other wrapped around her waist, and she looks up at her carefully, waiting for her next move. Santana just stares back at her, gentle and unsure, and they stay like that for a while, watching each other.

Brittany's thumbs sweep comfortingly over Santana's skin as Santana decides what happens next. Brittany turns her head when Santana slowly strokes her hair away from her neck and gives her more room, knowing what happens next. Santana's so gentle as she presses kisses over her neck, almost too gentle. She teases the open shirt down Brittany's shoulders so that she can stroke over bare shoulder blades and maps out her body like a person coming home.

They both know that she's remembered everything but she reminds herself anyway, just because.

Like the spot, buried just below Brittany's hairline, that makes her shiver if you stroke it. Brittany lets out a whispered little sign when her fingers press there and grips her tighter. She's sure that Santana's the only one who's ever discovered it, the only one who has ever cared enough to. She strokes it as she removes Brittany's sleep shirt and kisses her neck too. Once she's done, she pushes Brittany back against the pillows and admires her for a second, laying there in nothing but her underwear.

Brittany watches back, just as intently, waiting for reluctance or worry, but doesn't see any. She just sees the tell-tale gulp of approval before Santana looks down at herself and all the clothes she still wears. Her pajama pants go first, rather awkwardly. She almost falls off the bed trying to get them off quickly but slows down when Brittany leans forward to help with a smile. They settle down after that and Santana sits astride her for a second before she reaches for the bottom of her shirt and lifts it over her head.

Brittany holds her breath but then smiles when she sees that Santana's bra and underwear don't match.

It's not something that used to happen too often, much to her disappointment. Seeing that Santana took a moment to not worry about the most unimportant of things was always her favorite thing in the world.

It's good to know that it still is, even if Santana looks down at herself and looks a little embarrassed.

Brittany just wraps a hand around the back of her thigh and tugs, her hand reaching up to her face until Santana falls toward her.

"Sorry," Santana breathes against her mouth, but she's smiling.

Brittany shakes her head. "Don't be," she says softly before she slowly reaches for the front clasp of Santana's bra, squeezing it and watching enthralled as more flesh is revealed.

Santana sits up to tear the fabric away and Brittany loses sight of herself for a minute when she finally sees her like this after so long. She follows after her and buries her face into Santana's chest, into the expanses of soft skin she knows lives in the quarries of her body. She smothers her in kisses and soaks up Santana's squeak of surprise. She licks her way down Santana's chest in response and loves the feeling of hands tangling in her hair when her own cup soft, pliant flesh and bring it to her mouth, tasting it.

She's pulled into a kiss she doesn't expect after that and it's Santana's deepest yet. She wraps her fingers in Brittany's hair and her mouth is ruthless. Brittany clutches at her hips and her elbows to steady them and keep them upright but it doesn't work. They fall backwards into the pillows, a tangle of limbs and hair, as Santana attacks her with desperate kisses and greedy hands.

"Fuck," she hears whispered. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

It takes a moment for her to realize the words are coming from her and that she's buzzing, her hands shaking softly. It's then that she remembers how long it's been since she was with anyone and the thought leaves her nervous with anticipation. She grips a little harder to keep control but it just makes Santana kiss her harder.

Beautiful lips suck at her neck and Brittany can feel her smirking against her skin as her body rocks up into Santana at the feeling of it. She doesn't know how to explain that she just wants Santana to mark her, to own her. She's glad that she doesn't have to, that her movements are enough because, with each buck of her hips, Santana rewards her with a harsher marking than the last. Still, it isn't enough and Brittany feels out of control when her hands drift down Santana's back, past the barrier of her underwear, to grasp at her ass. She pulls Santana in tighter against her hips until she can feel how hot they both are.

It earns her a whimper and a bite to her neck that's sure to bruise.

"Britt Britt..." Santana moans, panting.

Brittany groans and they struggle to find each other's mouths for their next kiss. Brittany sucks at Santana's top lip as Santana struggles to breathe and keeps rocking against her.

"I need you," she whispers against Santana's mouth, desperately. "I need you."

Santana's eyes flutter and she tilts her chin up so that Brittany can begin sucking her bottom lip too, stroking it with kisses. "How?" she pants, pulling back and looking straight at her.

Brittany hates that there's still nerves in her voice. She kisses her properly, licking and biting at her with purpose and promise before she pulls away.

"However you want," she breathes.

Santana nods and Brittany tries to get her breathing steady as Santana strokes over her cheek, down her neck, her stomach, like she's trying to decide what she wants to do. Brittany cups her cheek at the sight of her, her thumb stroking over Santana's swollen mouth. Impatient hands tug Brittany's underwear from her body before gentle fingers tickle patterns up her thighs and then stroke against where she's warmest and wettest.

The sound that she releases is beyond her control, guttural and desperate. It's the most human sound she's ever made, especially when Santana is stroking her so perfectly. Like a musician playing a violin, she plucks against her and tightens her strings, tuning her so perfectly that Brittany thinks she might sing.

Her back arches and Santana shifts away from her to watch her body move. Brittany hates how lost she feels the second that she does and grasps for her to come back. She stops when Santana begins kissing the parts of her body that she likes most, from the ridges of her ribs as her back bows, to the fluttering in her stomach when she picks up her speed. Brittany cries out when Santana's mouth wraps around her nipple, sucking away the sweat the pools over her skin before moaning at the taste.

A too warm tongue licks up her neck and buries itself in Brittany's ear. She's breathing so heavily that it drowns out the sound of Brittany's own, loud breathing.

"I want to be inside of you," Santana whispers and Brittany's eyes flutter, her hand struggling to unclench from around the sheet to reach for Santana's hand. She covers over it, controls it, moves it through herself for a second, before she urges two of Santana's fingers inside of her.

They both moan at how it feels and Brittany grips at her wrist to hold her still, wanting to relish the welcome intrusion for a second.

Santana doesn't move until she lets go and nods.

She moves slowly and kisses Brittany at the same speed. It's like she wants it to last forever and Brittany lets her eyes flutter open when Santana stops kissing her and finds her watching her, a smile on her face so pure that she wants to cry.

She's missed this.

Shaky hands clutch at Santana's face and stroke over her expression, remembering it just in case she never sees it again, but it just gets bigger. Everything about Santana feels bigger as Brittany looks at her.

"I'm happy," Santana tells her. "I'm happy again."

Brittany's hips move and twitch as her eyes flicker over Santana's face, confused. She starts to feel something bigger too.

"You make me happy," Santana tells her and her expression changes when she sees something in Brittany's face, notices something in her expression before Brittany feels it. Her fingers move just that little bit faster, her thumb sweeping out to stroke over her clit, applying more pressure and friction. "You make me happy, Britt Britt," she whispers and that's all it takes before Brittany gets lost in the feeling of her, of this, of them.

/

She's not sure who needs the minute more.

Santana just looks at her, watches her as she catches her breath and it's almost like she's waiting for something to change now that it's over. Brittany tries to push the worry lines out of her face the second she sees them, strokes them from her expression, until Santana gives her a timid smile.

"I love you," Brittany whispers. Santana's only response is to turn her head and gently press a kiss into her palm. Her eyes close for a moment and Brittany watches her, admires her, soaks in the sight of her like this.

Santana leans in and Brittany tilts her chin to receive the slow, lazy kiss that she's given. Her arms wrap around Santana's back and grip her skin as it deepens. Her hands slip down to her ass of their own accord and the giggle Santana lets out against her mouth at the feel of it is gorgeous. It's everything she's missed in one short sound and it makes her smile, so she squeezes her hands against the flesh until it happens again. She does it until Santana stops giggling and starts breathing heavily. Brittany takes that as a sign that she can nudge her hands beneath the fabric of Santana's underwear to touch skin instead.

It confuses her a little when Santana pulls away and rolls over to lay beside her, a second before she sits up instead.

"You wanna get under the covers?" she asks awkwardly, reaching down for them.

Brittany sits up to press a hand against her bare back. "Not really," she whispers honestly.

Santana pauses and flinches. "I'm kinda tired," she says.

Brittany moves closer and brushes her hair back from her neck, pressing a kiss to the bow-shaped tattoo she found there two days ago. "Santana..." she whispers.

She hates it when Santana's knees come up to tuck against her chest. She reaches up to press her hand against one of them as her chin rests on Santana's shoulder.

"Sorry," Santana whispers.

Brittany shakes her head. "Don't be sorry," she says. "Just tell me what's wrong."

Her head tilts until their noses touch gently and Brittany watches as brown eyes disappear behind their lids. "I'm just scared," Santana breathes. "I don't want you to make love to me and for me to start crying or something ridiculous like that."

Brittany clicks her tongue. "That wouldn't be ridiculous."

Santana's eyes open slowly and they're so dark when they do. She shakes her head. "But I've never wanted you this bad, Britt..." Brittany can't help but smirk at that. Santana pouts and shoves at her. "Shut up."

Brittany laughs. "Fine," she says and then pushes Santana onto her back. Santana goes easily and, despite her obvious nerves, Brittany sees a smile quirk at the corner of her lips. She lays beside her for a second, watching her lay there with her eyes closed, before she begins to tease at the waistband of Santana's underwear again. Santana's eyes open and roll a little.

"Tell me what to do to make this better for you," Brittany asks as her fingertips rub over the top of her pelvis.

Santana clears her throat and her cheeks burn with a blush. She looks away, embarrassed.

"What?" Brittany asks.

Santana shrugs but doesn't look back. "Just tell me that you want this," she whispers.

Brittany smiles. "I want this," she says immediately.

Santana turns to look at her with dark, serious eyes. Brittany stops smiling when she sees them.

"All of it?" Santana asks. "Everything?"

"Everything, baby," she nods in reassurance. "Of course, I want everything. I want _you_."

It seems to ebb more of the worry from her. Her shoulders soften and the muscles beneath Brittany's fingers loosen a little.

"Okay," she says. "Just go slow."

Brittany nods and wastes no time moving to straddle her. Her hand remains on her pelvis for a second and she kisses Santana slowly, drawing her tongue into her mouth. Santana whimpers as Brittany's mouth drifts down her neck, sucking slowly as her fingers make swirly patterns over Santana's hips. Her legs shift nervously, her arms too. Her whole body feels tense and restless, no matter how fiercely Brittany attempts to distract her from her nerves. She kisses back to her mouth and then down her cheek. She nuzzles into the spot just below Santana's ear, the one that usually distracts her from almost anything, and lets the scent of her wash over her.

"I missed this," she whispers into Santana's ear. "I missed you."

Her fingers slowly begin to tease below the elastic of Santana's underwear but pull back when she freezes up a little. Instead she tries stroking over her inner thighs, massaging them so that they relax and slowly open wider.

"You're the only person I want," Brittany tells her. "There is nobody else for me... just you." Santana curls towards her at her words, clutches for her. "Because I meant it... I really did... I love you more than I love anyone else in the entire world, Santana. Even when you weren't there, you were my life."

Santana whimpers and Brittany lets the arm she's resting on wrap around Santana's neck so that she can hold their bodies closer. Brown eyes squeeze shut tight and Brittany presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose hoping it might help.

"When you left..." Brittany whispers as her hand moves up. "everyone told me to forget you. They said what they always used to say, that you're a bad person, but you're still the most perfect person I've ever met."

Brittany lets her hand cup over Santana softly, so softly that it takes her a second to realize that Brittany's touching her and it's too late to stop her. Brittany puts pressure there slowly, waiting, loving how Santana's jaw goes slack.

"And you will be," Brittany says, getting choked up a little. "Until the day I die."

Santana's relaxes entirely and her hands reach out to hold Brittany's face as tears stream from her eyes. She pushes gold strands away and kisses Brittany's cheeks, her eyelids. She lets out a shaky breath and nods, whimpers against Brittany's mouth when her hand pulls away.

Brittany's lips are shaking when she presses one last pacifying kiss to Santana's mouth, her entire body quivering slightly as she pushes herself up on her knees to look down at her. Santana's eyes open, wide and worried, but Brittany doesn't dwell on it, she just does what she intended and presses a wet kiss to Santana's throat, right where her pulse thrums beneath.

She takes her time and just kisses Santana wherever she can, touches her body with her mouth and hands and maps it back into her brain. It must take ages but it feels like no time at all when she's so lost in it. She kisses down her arms, over her shoulders, the insides of her elbows. Her tongue traces patterns over her chest, swirls around her breasts and hums against her. Her legs shake when Brittany litters kisses over the muscles in her stomach, her still-beautiful hips. She buries her face in the soft curve of her waist, smells her skin and feels her pulse. Santana trembles but doesn't argue or push her away when she slowly tugs down her underwear. She just presses her hand to her mouth to muffle whatever sounds are coming from deep within her. Brittany can feel her watching as she lets the fabric pass under her chin from where she kisses over Santana's ridiculously beautiful knees.

Brittany glances up and the sight of her makes her feel like she's falling, falling, falling.

Still, she doesn't stray from her journey down Santana's body. She kisses Santana's ankles and the tops of her feet, even as she urges Santana's legs wider. She's determined not to let her lust deter her from her task worshiping Santana just to show her that she's being honest. She wants this—she wants _her—_and she wants it more than she ever thought was possible.

"Britt Britt..." Santana whimpers and her voice is thick with tears. Brittany looks up at her and quickly takes the hand that Santana reaches out for her. "Britt Britt, please."

Her mouth presses one more kiss to the bone of her ankle before it makes it's way back up her body. She kisses and kisses and kisses, remembering things about every inch that she touches as she goes. She's not sure which one of them sobs when she finally reaches where she needs to be. It doesn't really matter. Brittany looks at her and breathes unsteadily, readying herself with hands on Santana's hips.

The first kiss she presses there is soft, wet, and gets lost in the feel of her, so hot and beautiful that it makes her ache. Santana whimpers while her hips buck and Brittany presses her hands higher—one on her stomach and the other on her breast to steady her—as she leans back in. This time her mouth opens wider, tastes more, and they both moan.

Brittany quickly becomes drunk with the taste of her. She opens her mouth and kisses her fervently, trying her hardest to last as long as she can without letting her tongue roam free. It's really hard when she loses all concept of time at the taste of her. She gives up quickly when Santana whimpers her name, fights against her hold and reaches for her.

Brittany's tongue disappears inside of her and becomes lost in how tight she is. She moans as Santana clenches and releases against her, her hands tangling in blonde hair. Brittany can feel how close she is already and hates it, knows she has two choices and, really, after all this time, there's only one she wants to make. She licks into her for a few more minutes, until she's seconds away from shuddering, then pulls back, dragging her mouth and her nose up through her until she can pull her clit into her mouth, sucking hard and fast.

She comes with a whimper that grows louder into a cry when Brittany reaches down and strokes her fingers over her entrance.

"Britt..." she moans, tugging at her shoulder, unable to breathe and with tears streaming down her face. "Britt..."

Brittany kneels up for a second and looks down at her. She pushes her hair back from her face with one hand while the other waits, taking in the sight of Santana. Her body lies twisted in the sheets, her back still arched from the climax. Her cheeks are pink and she shudders with each continuing stroke of Brittany's asking fingers against her entrance.

Her eyes flutter when Brittany slowly teases one finger inside of her. Her mouth opens just that little bit more and her back arches again. Breath pants from her and she urges her hips open wider as her body shifts down the bed to find more touch. Brittany pushes further inside of her and waits to be accommodated before adding another. She slowly begins to move inside of her when Santana's hips twitch. She watches her for a moment, watches how her fingers disappear inside of her, and smiles happily until she needs to kiss her.

She makes her way up Santana's body and is welcomed with warm hands and a soft tongue. She lets her body move with the thrusts she pushes inside of Santana and slows to let their kisses soften. It shocks her a little when Santana reaches down between them and starts stroking at her clit. She rubs furious circles, kisses lazily, and Brittany has a struggle to keep up when Santana pushes inside of her too, her thumb pressing where her fingers just were.

"Oh..." she chokes and looks down to find them a mess of arms and legs and pumping hips. "Oh..."

"You're so beautiful," Santana whispers into Brittany's hair as she pushes her onto her back . "So beautiful..."

Brittany can only moan in response as Santana's hips grind down onto her hand, pushing her own hand deeper inside of Brittany. It makes her cry out with each push and she feels herself coming too quickly, the warmth washing through her slowly like a crack in a dam, slowly at first, before it explodes inside of her with a groan that she isn't sure is in pain or pleasure.

But Santana swallows it readily and moves herself quicker against Brittany's hand, helping Brittany's fingers to find that space inside of her that always has her wild and gasping for breath as she shudders with her release. Her hips snap against Brittany's, urged by the hand on her ass, and draw out every drop of pleasure she can find before collapsing atop her.

They cling to each other for what feels like hours after, arms and legs and bodies curled around each other.

Brittany feels Santana's heartbeat against her chest, working in time with hers, and feels like they're one person.

Sometimes she thinks they are.


	4. Chapter 4

Brittany could get used to this.

She smiles as her fingers trail up and down Santana's back, their tips tiptoeing down her spine and around the back curve of her rib cage. Her skin is warm and damp with the reminder of what just happened and Brittany can't withhold the giggle she releases when Santana hums contently at her touch.

Santana nuzzles into the vibrations that shake up Brittany's neck and Brittany can feel her grinning there shyly.

"I'll get off you in a second," she whispers. "My legs just need a minute to remember how to work."

Brittany smiles and blushes proudly, even though she doesn't need to.

"You don't have to," she says, voice thick with her own content and relief. "But I am glad that that went well... I was worried for a second."

Santana looks up at her, eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" she asks in a tiny voice.

Brittany had forgotten how beautiful she looks from this close and in this circumstance. She kisses Santana's nose, just because she can, and shrugs.

"It's just been a while," she says but when Santana still wears a worried frown, she laughs in embarrassment and looks up to avoid interested brown eyes. "I haven't... done that... for a while," she explains. "I thought that I might have... I don't know, forgotten how everything works or something."

She finishes with a lighthearted laugh but still feels embarrassed at her own admission.

Santana looks confused for a moment but then her eyes go wide with shock. "You mean, you haven't gone down on—"

If possible, Brittany blushes more than she ever knew she could. She laughs at herself and lifts her hands from Santana's body to cover her face. "Oh my god," she whispers before taking her hands away. "No, not—well—if we're talking that then... yeah..." she trails off and shakes her head. "I haven't had sex with anybody in... over three years," she admits but then stops. "Well, not until a couple minutes ago, anyway."

Santana's eyes widen comically before she looks away. "Oh," she mutters. "Wow..."

Brittany notices how quiet she goes after that and it's her turn to apologize, then. She can't imagine what Santana's thinking... except she can and she doesn't really want Santana to think that she was trying to make a point. She was just stating a fact.

"Sorry," she mumbles. "You didn't need to know that."

"No, it's okay," Santana shrugs. She shifts and Brittany can almost hear how loud she's thinking until Santana sheepishly looks up at her. "I mean, it doesn't matter anymore, right?"

Brittany shakes her head straight away, her smile widening at the reminder. "Not anymore."

Santana presses a kiss to the spot above her heart and sighs before cuddling into her. They lay like that for a while, basking in the feeling, before Santana leans up and presses her chin to Brittany's breast bone. Her smile is coy and sends something old and familiar shooting straight to Brittany's pelvis.

"Still," she whispers, stroking circles around one of Brittany's nipples with her thumb. It draws her attention straight away, as does the sultry look on Santana's face. She gulps. "It wouldn't hurt for you to get back into practice, right?"

Brittany's brow raises when Santana leans forward and presses a wet kiss to her neck but then she smirks.

"Somebody's changed their tune," she comments in amusement.

Santana pulls away and bites her bottom lip. "Are you complaining?" she asks.

Brittany grabs for her, pulling her closer and urging their mouths together, just at the sight.

She groans when Santana pauses just before they kiss.

"I'll take that as a no."

/

She wakes up with a smile on her face, her head buried in her pillow and her body aching in all the best places she'd forgotten she had. She lays there for a moment, ignoring the world around her and takes a second to soak everything up—her happiness, her slowly disappearing pain, her steadily growing hope, and her unbridled and unabashed excitement—before she does anything else.

Once she's managed to get that under control, she lets her eyes flutter open.

It makes her a little sad when her arm reaches across the bed and Santana's not beside her. She pouts and rears up onto her arms, arching and cracking her back as she looks around.

She softens instantly when she finds Santana sat by the window in her chair, staring back at her worriedly.

She sinks back down onto the bed, hugging the pillow to her chest as she looks at her with a smile. "What are you doing over there?" she asks, voice thick with sleep. "Come back over here."

Santana smiles and laughs nervously. She turns around a little and Brittany instantly notices the change in her demeanor, how tense she is. She looks around the room for signs of what's going on and her eyes stop dead when she sees that Santana's previously empty duffle is now almost full to the brim with her things.

Brittany lets fear and tears wash over her as she sits up. Instinct, kicks in and she shakes her head as her face falls.

"Don't leave me," she chokes out breathlessly as she continues adamantly shake her head in refusal. "You don't get to leave me. Don't you _dare_ leave me."

Santana's frowns in confusion but then she's straddling her in a second, eyes wide and pained as she grabs at Brittany's cheeks and pulls her close. "I would _never_..." she trails off and her face falls with real hurt this time. "_Britt Britt_..." she sighs. "I'm not going anywhere."

Brittany takes deep breaths to steady herself and tries to avoid Santana's eyes. "Sorry," she chokes out. "Sorry."

Santana kisses her forehead and shakes her head. "It's okay, it's okay," she whispers. "I'm not going anywhere... not without you, anyway."

Brittany looks past her at the bag and sniffs at it for scaring her so badly. "You packed your bag, though," she whispers. "Do you have to leave soon?"

Santana shakes her head and kisses her again. "I was looking for something."

Brittany pouts and lets Santana fuss over her. She cuddles her close and presses kisses in her hair. "Whatever it was, I hate it," she admits.

Santana tenses and pulls back a little to look at her. For the first time, Brittany realizes how overwhelmingly beautiful she looks, sat there in her thin white robe with her dark hair curling around her face. It softens her and makes her stop.

"I'm hoping you'll change your mind about that," Santana whispers, body slumping a little. Her cheeks pink and Brittany frowns when she gets up off of her.

"What do you mean?"

Santana paces for a moment and it's like a switch has been flipped as her face pales like she's going to throw up. Her hands worry themselves together for a second before she reaches over to the dresser to where she's folded Brittany's sleep shirt. She picks it up and hands it to her. Brittany takes it and looks down at her naked self in confusion. Santana sees that and swallows audibly.

"It's not..." she starts, but then gives up and gulps. "I just think that... when I do this, we should at least be a little bit dressed, you know?"

Brittany opens her mouth to ask what she's talking about but decides against it, choosing to slip the shirt on instead. She messily fastens the buttons and misses a few but it seems to satisfy Santana. She still looks worried, though. She keeps pacing and pacing, not looking at Brittany at all as she wears holes in the carpet. She plays with something in her pocket and, eventually, it starts to worry Brittany.

"You're scaring me," she whispers and tries to laugh it off.

Santana snaps around to her and then she's stood right in front of her.

"This is what I'm trying to find the words to say," she says quickly and she sounds a little pissed off. "I don't want to scare you anymore. You've been awake about five minutes now and I've already scared you twice." She groans and starts pacing again before Brittany can grab her and calm her down. "I want to protect you, Britt. I want you to look at me and know for sure that I'll be the one person you can be sure of forever. That's all I ever wanted, even before I fucked everything up."

"You didn't—" Brittany tries to say but Santana cuts her off by quickly stopping and turning back to her.

"I did," she nods. "Let's be real. I did. And before last Thursday I realize know how much." She shrugs her shoulders and smiles at Brittany, softening. "Six years ago, I had everything I could have ever wanted sat in front of me and what did I do? I fucked up and then I ran because I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought that I was doing the brave and honorable thing when, really, I should have been doing this..."

Brittany frowns but then Santana kneels in front of her. She presses her hands to Brittany's bare knees and looks at her for a moment before laughing in disbelief. Brittany can't do anything but look at her and hold her breath. Her back straightens in confusion as Santana opens her mouth to speak.

"You are perfect," she whispers. "You're perfect and I probably deserve you least out of everyone in the entire world but, for some reason, your beautiful heart was kind enough to pick me." Brittany feels her heart begin to race for reasons she can't understand yet. "And I will never be able to show you how grateful I am for that... but I would be honored if you would give me a chance to try." Her voice breaks a little and Brittany swallows against tears. "Because I have learned... through my endless stupidity, that I am _nothing _without you." She shakes her head. "Every minute I have ever been apart from you has been nothing but wasted time. And, even though it took me about twenty minutes after I ran away from you to realize how stupid I was to let you go, I made myself a promise long ago, that if I ever saw you again, and you took pity on me enough to ever give me a second chance, that I wouldn't waste it."

Brittany nods because she's still not sure she gets what's happening. All she knows is that Santana's having trouble breathing and speaking but she's never looked more confident. She still covers one of Santana's hands anyway.

"So, here's the thing..." Santana gulps, nodding. "I love you. _I love you_ and I always have." Her voice cracks with tears and Brittany doesn't know why she wants to cry too. Santana shrugs. "My heart is wasted on trying to do anything other than loving you because I just can't do it. I can't do it. I'm sure it was made to do nothing else." She tries to smile before it falls away nervously. "You're my life, Britt Britt, and I took you for granted. But, I promise, if you're kind enough to agree to what I'm about to ask you, that I won't do that again. I promise, I won't. I'll love you and I'll protect you and I will never, ever—so help me, God—leave you ever as long as I walk this earth."

When Santana's hand disappears into the pocket of her robe, Brittany stops breathing entirely. She mouths Santana's name but no sound comes out, no air or words leave her until she sees Santana pull that little red box out of her pocket and pop open the lid. That's when she gasps.

"Santana—"

"Marry me," Santana begs and that's the only thing to call it. She begs. "Marry me. Please, marry me."

In that second, an echo of words long forgotten registers in Brittany's head.

_Please say you love me back. Please_, she hears.

It makes a sob erupt from her throat.

Santana's face falls at the sound of it and she looks down at the floor as Brittany reaches for her in a panic.

"Okay, so don't marry me right now." She shakes her head quickly. "It's been, like, four days. What was I thinking?"

She tries to laugh at herself but it doesn't work. Her face grows serious again as she looks up deep into blue eyes.

"I know I don't deserve it," she whispers. "But I just wanted you know that, when you're ready—if you're _ever_ ready—I'm here and I would like to marry you. I really want to, Britt, I prom—"

"Where did you get that?" Brittany asks all of a sudden. "Whose ring is that?"

Santana stops and frowns. She looks down at the box in her hands and swallows. "It's yours," she nods. "I bought it for you."

"When?" Brittany asks and she can't breathe.

Santana smiles sadly and shrugs. "About six years ago," she admits and Brittany feels sobs getting stuck in her throat. "It was supposed to be for our first anniversary. I was going to make you a promise, but..."

"You wanted to marry me?"

Santana reaches out for her and takes her hand. Brittany doesn't miss that it's the left one.

"I still do," she intones breathlessly. "And I did... every single day we were apart. There wasn't a day where I didn't realize that I'd probably lost the girl I wanted to marry."

Brittany pants for breath, and feels like she might black out, but somehow manages to speak. "Ask me again," she chokes.

Santana gasps and then takes the ring from it's cushion and poises it at Brittany's ring finger. She boldly pushes it to the first knuckle before she speaks.

"Marry me, Britt Britt..."

It isn't a question.

Questions are what you ask when you don't know the answer to something and Santana should know this. It feels like she should just know this inherently.

Because this is more obvious than anything else Brittany's ever known.

She nods. "Okay."

Santana's face lights up and tears fall down her cheeks like that's all they were waiting for until they could be set free.

"Really?"

Brittany nods and reaches for her, the ring pushing all the way down her finger in the process. She pulls Santana to her, cupping her cheeks as she kisses her desperately.

"Why are you always so silly?" she asks against Santana's mouth when she pulls back. "You're so silly," she whispers."So, so silly."

Santana laughs and kisses her, stroking her cheeks in disbelief. She looks at Brittany like she isn't real.

"The silliest," she agrees and then kisses her.

It feels like the best kiss either of them has ever had.

/

"This is the craziest thing," Santana mumbles into the space between them.

Brittany shifts closer and shakes her head. Their noses rub together not-so accidentally and blue eyes close at the feel. "No it's not."

Santana blinks. "No?"

Brittany shakes her head again and hums when Santana kisses her nose. "I was always going to marry you," she sighs happily.

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm."

Santana wraps an arm around her. "Tell me more."

Brittany lets her eyes flutter open and smiles sweetly. "There's no more to tell," she whispers. "That's just it. I was always going to marry you. It could have been back when we were at school, it could have been when we were ninety years old but I just knew I was always going to marry you someday."

Santana laughs and her hand slides up Brittany's back to tangle in the hairs at the back of her neck. "I'm glad one of us did," she says and then pauses carefully before speaking again. "But now that we are, what's the plan?"

Brittany sighs as fingers rub at her scalp. "What do you mean?"

"What's the plan?" Santana laughs and pokes her in the side with the other hand. "Where are we getting married? When? Who are we inviting? What are we wearing? Where are we going to _live_?"

"Too many questions at once," Brittany mumbles but leans forward to kiss her softly. "Ask me one at a time."

Their arms wrap around each other until they're pressed together at every available part of their bodies. Brittany's face rests in the crook of her neck and Santana nuzzles into her cheek. "Where are we getting married?" she whispers.

Brittany takes a moment to think.

"New York."

"Okay," Santana nods and Brittany feels her smiling against her skin. "When?"

"Tomorrow."

Santana pokes at her again and clicks her tongue. "Britt Britt," she says reproachfully. "Be serious. My mom's going to want to know all these things when I call her."

Brittany opens her eyes and pushes her face away from Santana's neck at the same time she wraps a leg around her waist. Her arms raise to wrap around Santana's shoulders and she strokes a hand through dark curly hair as she looks at her carefully. "I _am_ being serious," she whispers, calmly.

The words make Santana begin to tremble.

She swallows thickly. "Tomorrow?" she repeats.

Brittany nods and kisses her to calm her before reburying her face in Santana's neck.

"Or as soon as legally possible," she shrugs. "I don't mind. As long as our parents and friends can be there. I mean, I don't want a big wedding..." she tells her. "I just want to marry you."

Santana doesn't speak for a little while and it starts to worry Brittany until arms tighten around her and a tear drips onto her cheek.

"Really?" she asks.

Brittany doesn't do anything other than nod and turn her head and kiss her neck, right there, where her pulse and her life beats beneath. Santana laughs a little in disbelief.

"Okay," she whispers but it sounds more like a sigh. "I'll make plans."

/

They don't get married tomorrow, or the day after.

There's just a lot of talking.

They call Maribel first and listen to her screaming down the phone for fifteen minutes before they can actually tell her anything. Sam's next and he threatens to drive all the way to Lima just to hug them until Santana tells him that they'll be coming to Columbus soon enough. Brittany's parents are confused but happy for them. Rachel cries and Kurt tries to talk them into having the gay wedding of the century. They call work and Brittany's boss is more concerned about her maybe move than about the fact that she's getting married. Brittany holds Santana as she calls her boss, knowing how worried she is about his reaction, and feels the tension ebb away from her the more excited her boss gets about everything.

He tells her not to worry, promises her that whatever she chooses will be an opportunity and not a hindrance. He gives her his congratulations and says his goodbyes but then a couple of hours later, he calls her back and asks her if she wants to open up a studio for him on the east coast.

Santana cries and promises to return to San Francisco as soon as she can to discuss details.

After Maribel has returned and they've driven to Columbus to see Sam and talk things over with him, is when they head there. Brittany's nervous but Santana drags her around the city and introduces her to the people she knows. Her boss looks at Brittany like she's the last piece of a puzzle and now he can finally figure out the whole picture. Brittany sits with them while they talk business and he admits that he was thinking of opening a satellite office for his record company in New York anyway. He charges Santana with searching for properties and, just like that, it's decided that they're moving to New York.

It doesn't feel real that everything's working out so well but Brittany doesn't question it. She just kisses Santana when she looks like she might stop to think and reaches for her computer to start looking for apartments.

/

They finally arrive in New York on a Thursday night and are greeted by Kurt and Rachel who squeal at the sight of them together and drag them to the exit. It's late but they go for dinner and drinks anyway. They don't stay out long and head back early. Kurt's disappointed but Brittany explains that they have appointments with realtors all day tomorrow. It's not until Santana mentions that she was thinking that they could go get their marriage license when they wake up that he stops arguing.

Brittany understands that because she finds herself unable to talk at the thought of it, breathless at the reality. She just grins like a lunatic all the way back to Rachel and Kurt's apartment and Santana ends up putting the sheets on their futon herself because Brittany's too bouncy to concentrate.

/

City hall opens at eight-thirty but they're there by eight.

Kurt and Rachel join them and wait with them. Santana looks nervous, like someone might come out and tell her that they're not allowed to get married, but Brittany holds her hands to calm her down. Santana begins to play with the engagement ring on Brittany's finger and Brittany rubs comforting patterns into her knuckles.

She doesn't relax until the little old lady steps out and calls their names. She hands them their license and Santana just stares at it a minute, like someone just gave her a check for a million dollars, before whispering her thanks and leaving before anyone can take it from her.

Kurt and Rachel head off to work but they get breakfast in a little deli. They check through their list of apartments even though they know which one they want. They just know that they'll be lucky to get it because it's too perfect.

They head to that one last, hoping that they'll have found another one they like more before they get to it, but it's even more perfect in person. The realtor lady is really nice and tells them that the apartment used to belong to an artist who died a year ago. She tells them that it's been on the market for a while because no one seems to want it. But Brittany looks at Santana and knows that they do.

There's not many places like this, with enough room for them to live and both have their separate work areas too. They make a call to Santana's boss and then give the realtor an offer straight away.

The previous owner's daughter accepts the offer on the spot.

It's almost dark by the time that they finally leave the realtor outside the apartment but Santana decides to take Brittany for a tour around the neighborhood. They walk around Brooklyn eating sandwiches before Santana stops and drags Brittany across the street to a small jeweler on the corner. She asks her quietly if she feels like buying their wedding rings and Brittany pushes her against the glass at the front of the store and kisses desperately before they even make it inside.

Once two gold bands are in their possession, Brittany lets Santana hold onto the box they both sit in, knowing that it'll help her feel just a little calmer about everything having more tangible proof. Kurt and Rachel are still at work when they get back to their apartment and Brittany doesn't say anything, just takes Santana to the couch and gives her more tangible proof before they get home.

/

They move into the new apartment a couple of days later and sit in the middle of the largest room, looking around. There's just some blank canvasses left littering the walls and white sheets covering the windows. Santana gets up and pulls them down, smiling when the sun shines through the stained glass, and then sits back down beside Brittany.

"We should probably get some furniture," she whispers around a laugh.

Brittany nods but then pushes Santana down onto the hardwood floor, of what will probably end up being her studio, and straddles her quickly. Santana doesn't do anything but smile and grip at Brittany's hips, swallowing the kisses she's given.

They make love, warmed only by each other and the winter sun coming through the window and Santana looks at her after and smiles like a fool.

"Welcome home," she whispers and the words, simple as they are, take Brittany's breath away.

/

They buy a mattress and have to carry it the fifteen blocks back to the apartment, laughing and joking all the way. That and the tea kettle that sits on their stove are the only things that they have, but they don't mind. Kurt and Rachel bring them take out when they finish work and the four of them spend the rest of the evening scribbling renovation plans onto a small notepad from Rachel's purse.

They do the same thing a couple of days later after Sam and Sugar have randomly arrived with Brittany's things in the back of their car. There's a few pieces of unassembled furniture littered around the room and the girls and Kurt paint some of the walls of the apartment while Sam puts them together.

They all go out for lunch and return in the afternoon all carrying random items of furniture after passing a flee market on the way home. Santana giggles as she sets her new record player on the kitchen counter and pulls the one record she bought out of it's sleeve before putting it on.

They all sing and dance around to Fleetwood Mac's _Rumours_ while they paint but, when "Songbird" comes on, Brittany and Santana stop and reach for each other.

Their friends don't question it when they stand in the middle of the room dancing to it, just move around them and allow them to get lost in happiness.

/

When Maribel arrives on Friday morning with a suitcase and her credit card, Santana and Brittany don't argue when she takes them out and buys them a new bed and a couple of couches.

She calls it a wedding present and, later, when they're snuggled up on one of them, Brittany turns to Santana and rests her chin on her shoulder.

Santana narrows her eyes at the goofy grin on Brittany's face but smiles back anyway. "What?" she asks.

Brittany shrugs and buries her face in Santana's shoulder until Santana pokes at her sides and forces her to look up. Brittany kisses her long and slow, just because she can, before she pulls back and rests their foreheads together.

"Do you wanna get married?" she asks softly.

Santana laughs and kisses her again. "I thought that was the plan already," she says.

Brittany shakes her head and holds her breath. "I meant, like, now."

Santana's eyes widen a little. "Now?" she repeats.

"Your mom is here, our friends are here... everyone's leaving on Wednesday and we don't know when they're going to be able to come back... and our marriage license only lasts thirty days, so..." Brittany reels off. "I just figured... why not get married now?"

Santana contemplates her words before she nods and takes her hand. "Well, I think City Hall is closed for the weekend, but we can call them on Monday..."

Brittany grins and kisses her, satisfied with that answer.

/

They get their dresses on Saturday afternoon between buying more paint and finding a toaster. Maribel and Kurt take Santana, and Sam and Sugar take Brittany, while Rachel whines that she has to work. Brittany finds a ivory-colored dress and jacket from 1959 at a thrift store in Greenwich Village and knows that she wants to get married in it the minute she sees it.

Santana doesn't have a dress when she returns but Kurt tells her that he's keeping it safe. Brittany decides to hide hers in the closet that's going to end up being her dark room and only lets Santana see the stockings she bought, just to tease her.

She catches Santana hovering around the closet when she comes out of the bathroom after brushing her teeth at bedtime and gives her an amused but unimpressed look.

"It's bad luck," she whispers as she guides Santana backwards towards their bedroom.

Santana shakes her head and kisses her. "We don't need luck," she reminds her.

/

Brittany's parents arrive on Sunday afternoon with Mr. Lopez and Santana's boss. He comes straight to the apartment to check out the space that'll be the studio and Maribel plies him with the same food she's been plying Sam with all week as he works to finish decorating the apartment.

Santana's boss makes a quick call once she's seen the apartment and then tells Santana that people will be there to get the recording studio ready within the next two weeks. Brittany watches as he pulls Santana aside and asks her something. She shoves at him and nods towards Brittany but then, a second later, he's stepping over to her and asking if Brittany's free to do a shoot for one of his artists next month. She laughs and nods, telling him that's fine before walking away to say goodbye to her parents before they go off exploring the city.

/

Santana's awake at five am on Monday, ready to call City Hall.

Brittany rolls over and kisses her hello before noticing how nervous she is, only she isn't nervous: she's excited.

"This time tomorrow..." she whispers before Brittany can even ask what's wrong. "...you could be my wife." She shakes her head. "How amazing is that?"

Brittany wraps herself around her and buries her nose into Santana's hair.

"It's about time," she whispers. "That's what it is."

/

Five hours later, they get married.

There was a last minute cancellation and it was a rush but until a few weeks ago, they hadn't realized that they'd wasted six years.

Santana disappears to Kurt and Rachel's with her mom and Sam and Sugar appear to help Brittany get ready. She slips on her dress and Sugar helps her to curl her hair. She leaves a little while later to go help Brittany's parents put up the decorations downstairs and leaves her with Sam. He pulls on his suit as she puts on her make up on and she catches him in the mirror, staring at her with a smile on his face.

She can't help but grin back. "What?" she laughs.

He steps up behind her and wraps her into a backwards bear hug, kissing her cheek. He holds her after and just stares at her in the mirror, grinning.

"Told you so," he mutters and Brittany's never been more happy to be wrong.

/

Considering how big a moment it is, it happens rather quickly.

They meet on the steps outside City Hall and Brittany's worried at how quickly she gets overwhelmed. Santana stands there, dressed in a white dress detailed with lace and pearl buttons. Her hair is wrapped up into a lose bun at the back of her head and she keeps warm in a red coat and a fur scarf. She wears red lipstick and her nails are their usual red too. She smiles and takes Brittany's hand before leading her into a waiting room. They stand there for a couple of minutes before a woman steps out and welcomes them inside.

There's just a desk and a couple of chairs. Their friends have to stand behind them and the woman stands in front of a desk where a book and a couple of pieces of paper sit. She doesn't pause, she just asks them if they're ready before beginning.

It's a rush and Brittany just stares at Santana as the woman speaks. She stares until she sees the woman turn to Santana.

"Santana, will you take this woman to be your wife?" she asks and Brittany didn't think it would be this quick to get to the good parts. "Will you love her, honor her and keep her, in sickness and in health and, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, as long as you both shall live?"

Brittany holds her breath and feels the first sign of tears when Santana gives a little nod before she speaks.

"I will."

She breathes out at the words and feels nervous when the lady turns to her and smiles.

"Brittany, will you take this woman to be your wife? Will you love her, honor her and keep her, in sickness and in health and, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, as long as you both shall live?"

Brittany nods and it takes a moment before she giggles. "Of course, I will."

Santana laughs and so do their friends and parents. The lady smiles and softens towards them for a moment before she looks at them seriously.

"Are their any vows you wish to exchange?" she asks softly. Brittany looks at Santana and they both nod timidly. The lady nods. "Santana, if you would like to face Brittany and go first."

Brittany automatically straightens her back when Santana turns to her and takes her hands.

"Brittany," Santana says and she's only talking to Brittany when she speaks. "You are the most beautiful person I know. You are the most beautiful person I will _ever_ know. Today I'm here to promise you that I will love you and protect you and be faithful to you forever. I'm here to promise that I will never give you reason to doubt me, only trust me, and that I'll remind you every day of how precious you are." Brittany feels a tear drip down her cheek, even as her smile grows as big as the sun. Santana laughs. "You are my best friend, my lover, my soulmate and I'm honored that you've chosen me to call your wife. I love you," she whispers. "And I promise to do so for as long as I live."

There's a moment of silence and Brittany has to do everything within her power not to lean forward and smother Santana in kisses. Santana stares back at her until the officiator clears her throat. They both turn to her and she smiles.

"Brittany..." she prompts.

Brittany turns back and smiles. She stares at Santana for a moment and Brittany's never been more sure of anything than at this moment.

"Santana," she begins and it's hard to speak through her smile. "Today, I give you my heart. Today, I choose you, above all others, to be my wife. I promise that my love for you will never waver, will never fade and that, with each new day, I will love you more than the last. I promise to be gentle and true, to cherish and adore you just as you deserve to be." She smiles with unbridled joy. "I want to be with you always, just as you are, and I will until the day I die."

Behind them, Brittany thinks that she can hear the tell-tale signs of Maribel, Kurt and Rachel crying. She ignores them, too happy to care about them, and looks at Santana because she's the only one that matters. Their fingers tangle in the space between them, even though Brittany's sure they're not really supposed to yet.

"Do we have rings?"

Neither of them move as Sam fumbles to take the ring box from his pocket. He hands them to the officiator and she smiles at him before looking at the rings.

"Santana?" she says and Santana struggles to tear her eyes away from Brittany to get her ring. She takes it from the woman and Brittany lifts her hand so that she can poise it at the end of her finger. "Repeat after me: with this ring, I thee wed."

Santana slips the ring down Brittany's finger. Behind them, what feels like a million cameras flash.

"With this ring..." she whispers. "...I thee wed."

Brittany smiles and then turns to take her ring unprompted. The officiator smiles and Brittany feels her breath catch as she slips the ring down to Santana's first knuckle.

"With this ring..." she says as she gently pushes it further down Santana's finger. "...I thee wed."

Santana's smiles grows, even as tears stream down her faces. She takes Brittany's hand before she can pull it away and tangles it back in with own. They both look at the officiator at the same time and find her grinning at them. She gives them both a look that asks them if they're both ready and they both nod before she puts aside the paper she's reading from and clasps her hands together.

"Well," she says. "Now that Brittany and Santana have declared themselves to each other through the exchanging of vows and the giving of rings, there leaves me only one thing left to say and that's this..." she pauses and smiles. "By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce that you're wife and wife... You may now kiss your bride."

As their friends and family scream in excitement, Brittany doesn't need to be told twice. Her smile softens as she reaches up to cup Santana's cheek while the other hand wraps around her waist to bring her closer. Santana's eyes flutter as their lips meet and they kiss as long as they can until the beginning of their new life pulls them forward together.

/

They wrap themselves around each other as Maribel forces them to pose for photos outside of City Hall. Brittany wraps her arms around Santana's waist as they smile for the cameras and shields her from the cold. Brittany smiles her biggest smile without even trying but, when she turns to Santana she finds that she isn't looking at the camera or smiling at all.

Instead, she's just staring at Brittany in wonderment.

Brittany reaches up and cups the back of her neck, tilts her head up until she can see her face better.

"What?" she whispers.

Santana reaches up too and swipes her thumb over Brittany's cheek.

"You're my wife," she whispers.

Brittany grins, slow and lazy and overwhelmed. She leans in until their noses touch.

"And you're mine," she whispers, loving the way Santana's breath hitches at the reminder.

/

The apartment still smells like paint and freshly cut wood, but they don't care as they pile into it with their family and friends. The room is covered in balloons and store-bought banners. Someone has ripped up an old bed sheet and used some of the leftover paint to write "CONGRATULATIONS SANTANA AND BRITTANY" across it, and it hangs on the main wall where everyone can see.

Santana's boss wanders in with a box of the best champagne and they drink it from coffee mugs and red solo cups like teenagers.

Brittany doesn't feel like a teenager so much.

She's a wife now.

She _has _a wife now.

It makes her a little breathless, overwhelmed and excited at the responsibility.

There will be no more worry... she knows it. Now is when all the hard stuff is definitely over. All the bumps in their road will be superfluous. This is it. She knows it. She can feel it and that's what makes her feel grown up.

Getting old has never felt more wonderful than when she knows she won't be doing it alone.

/

As always, the drink goes straight to Santana's head. Brittany smiles at her fondly as her cheeks begin to pink and her eyes go glassy. She wraps her arm tighter around her waist and looks around them before leading her out onto the balcony.

She presses her against the rail and presses up behind her, wrapping her arms around her to keep her warm. She relaxes instantly and, for a moment, Brittany can't stop thinking about how they'll never be cold or alone again ever. She can't stop thinking about how she's always going to be the thing that makes Santana warm.

"I love you," Santana whispers as she rests her body back into her. Her cheek presses against Brittany's jaw.

Brittany leans into her ear. "You sure that's not just the champagne talking?"

"Nope," Santana shakes her head and covers Brittany's arms around her waist with her own. "It's true. I do."

"Well, that's good because I love you, too," Brittany mumbles back to her, tightening her arms around her. Santana smiles but it doesn't seem entirely full on her face. It feels like Santana's not really there, lost in her head, so Brittany turns and kisses her temple. "Stop thinking."

It jars Santana back into the moment and she smiles nervously before turning her head. "Sorry," she whispers as Brittany kisses her quickly.

Brittany shakes it off but Santana still looks a little concerned. "What's happening in that head, huh?"

Santana shrugs but Brittany doesn't pay any attention and spins Santana in her arms. She presses her back against the railing and takes a moment to wrap her coat around both of them as Santana shivers.

"This is real, right?" Santana asks softly. Brittany just smiles and kisses her slowly until she feels Santana's fingertips digging into her shoulder, pulling her close.

She breaks away from her and relishes Santana's whimper when they part.

"Does it feel real?" she asks. Santana nods slowly and Brittany chuckles. "Then that's good enough for me."

/

Maribel and Mr. Lopez present them with tickets to Paris just as the sun's setting. Santana suddenly perks up from where she was half falling asleep on Brittany's shoulder to hug them quickly. She sees her parents whispering something to her in quiet Spanish before Mr. Lopez hugs her so tight he's practically lifting her from the floor.

Brittany follows and is concerned by how hard Santana's crying into her father's jacket when she reaches them. Except, they don't look like happy tears; they look like overwhelmed, relieved tears.

They look like the tears of someone who is finally, truly happy.

"What..." Brittany moves to ask but Maribel reaches out to holds her close, kissing her on the forehead.

"They're from Abuela," she whispers in Brittany's ear. "There was a letter... in her things... she wanted you to..." is all she manages to explain before she laughs softly. "Apparently being too stubborn to ask for forgiveness runs in the family."

Brittany clutches Maribel closer, even as she reaches out to touch Santana's arm.

"God, I hope it skips a generation," she whispers and Maribel laughs before she's tugged away harshly and replaced by a Santana that clutches at her desperately, breathless at her words.

/

Their flights leave a few hours later and it's a good thing that they're still partially packed anyway. They have to rush to get everything together and switch around their schedules for the next week. Santana's boss offers to stick around and watch over the guys that are fixing up the apartment, tells them to disappear to Europe for ten days and come back to something they can actually live in.

Sam drives them to the airport and Maribel follows them with a smile on her face. They make promises to take pictures of all the sights and not to worry about anything. They promise Maribel that they'll come visit, that she'll see them more often. She kisses them on the cheek and they almost miss their check-in because she won't let them go.

They're still wearing their wedding dresses and the lady at the desk looks at them with a smile before taking their economy seats and switching them for first class.

"We should get married more often," Santana jokes.

Brittany kisses her as they head towards the gate, holding their hand luggage with one hand as the other holds Santana to her.

She doesn't know how to tell Santana that she'd marry her again tomorrow, and every day after that, if it meant she felt as perfectly loved as she did today.

/

They don't take any pictures... at least not any that they'd be able to show Maribel. Brittany takes a few of Santana that she can't wait to look over when they get home.

Instead, they spend eleven days cooped up in a Parisian hotel room, ordering room service, and making wild, desperate love to each other.

The only time they ever actually step out onto the streets of Paris is on their last day. Santana wakes up in the late morning and forces Brittany to wake up and dress. They shower together before Santana drags her along a street of expensive looking stores to buy their friends and family souvenirs. They go to a perfumery and spend an hour testing all the different ones on offer. Brittany spends most of their time there with her nose buried in Santana's neck, trying to work out if it would be possible to bottle the scent of Santana's skin so that she could take it with her everywhere.

After that, they go back to the hotel and get changed before Santana takes Brittany to dinner. She buys her a rose from a street vendor and hold the door for her. Brittany's pretty sure that Santana would get her chair if it weren't for the fact that the two young waiters do it for them. They hold hands over the table and stay there eating until it's dark.

They complete their honeymoon by spending the night walking along the River Seine before kissing under the looming shadow of Notre Dame until the sky begins to turn blue again.

They fail to regret it when they get home to New York that Sunday afternoon. They barely take notice of their fully furnished and decorated apartment, just succumb to the jet lag quickly,

undressing slowly, and falling into bed, glad to be home.

/

Brittany's awoken on Monday by Santana tripping over the suitcase she warned her not to leave in the middle of the room as she grabs her robe and runs to open the front door.

She listens to her mumble out a sleepy thank you to whatever person is on the other side of the door before it closes again. There's a pile of mail in her hands when comes back in and a package tucked under her arm. She squints to see the names on the front of everything but gives up and tosses it all onto the dresser when she realizes she doesn't have her glasses on.

Brittany rolls onto her side to look at her as she wanders back to the bed and admires Santana as she divulges herself of her robe and slips back into bed behind her.

"It's fucking cold," Santana grumbles as an arm wraps around Brittany's waist and pulls closer.

She smirks and rolls over until Santana can bury her face in her neck and use her body like a blanket over Brittany's body. Brittany pulls the covers up around her shoulders and tucks her in so she doesn't get cold without prompt. As she quietly stares up at their ceiling and around their room. She notices that their walls are painted blue, that their sheets are striped and someone has found them comfy looking gray blankets to give them some extra warmth in the cold. She likes it.

Being in this room should feel strange but it doesn't. It just gives Brittany an all-consuming feeling that she's finally home, that this apartment and this woman—her wife—are her home.

After six years of feeling so lost, she finally knows that this is where she's supposed to be.

She chuckles as things she didn't realize she still didn't know click into place.

"What?" Santana hums into her neck. "I'll get off you in a minute... once I've got warmer."

"Don't," Brittany says quickly, her hands reaching up to wrap tighter around her. She tangles her fingers in Santana's hair and kisses her cheek quickly. "It feels nice."

Santana hums in agreement. "Do you have anything planned today?" she asks after a few moments of just laying there.

Brittany shakes her head. "We have to go grocery shopping but that can wait until later, if you want. Or I can go if you have work to do."

Santana shakes her head. "No, we'll go later," she says. "I just wanna snuggle my wife a little first."

Brittany's heart still soars at being called that. She thinks that, if she could, she'd change her name to that. She presses her open smile to Santana's cheek as she strokes at her hair. She's pretty sure that she can feel Santana slowly starting to fall back to sleep against her the more she does it.

Brittany just lays there and relishes the feel of everything around her, of the sunlight that seeps in through their bedroom window and the warmth of her wife's body. She falls in love with the safety that surrounds her, of the normalcy she doesn't struggle to feel as she lays there.

She knows that, later, they'll go to the market down the street and they'll get their groceries, that they'll fight over the type of milk they buy and worry over how few vegetables they buy in favor of fruit. She knows that Santana will roll her eyes as she slips a box of Pop Tarts and a bag of Cheetos into the cart but will still definitely slip a carton of vanilla and chocolate ice cream in when Brittany isn't looking. She knows that they'll come home and Santana will find a record for them to dance around to while they make lunch together. She thinks that she'll make cinnamon apple pie later, just because she knows that Santana will want something warm and tasty to go with the vanilla ice cream in this cold weather. She knows that they'll spend the afternoon on their couch snuggling and listening to music under the guise of Santana doing her work until it's time to make dinner.

She knows that they'll probably do the same thing next Monday. And the Monday after that. And the Monday after that.

She'll make sure of it.

She thinks back to this time six years ago when she was struggling to find normalcy in days that weren't anymore when she didn't have Santana.

She chuckles because she knows what Mondays are now that she has Santana back and that isn't normal or average.

No.

They never were.

Nothing with Santana could ever be normal or average.

"What are you laughing at now?" Santana mumbles before she leans up on her elbow to look down at her. Her dark hair is curly around her face, softening her features and making her brown eyes look sleepier. She narrows them curiously but Brittany can see the fondness there.

She shakes her head and bites her lip. "Nothing." Santana gives her a look of disbelief. "It's _nothing,_" she repeats around a laugh and then shrugs. "I'm just happy, is all."

Santana softens and leans down to kiss her gently. She pulls back a little, but not far. She strokes their noses against each other before giving Brittany a smile that matches her own.

"You're a goof, Mrs. Lopez," she whispers with a knowing chuckle.

Brittany's hand in her hair tightens and she arches her body up off the bed to get closer. Santana smiles just a little bit wider at her reaction and giggles into her mouth. Brittany's hand clutches gently her cheek and falls just a little bit more in love with her wife.

Santana leans in to kiss her but pulls back just before their mouths meet.

"But, just to be clear," she whispers. "I'm happy, too."

As Santana finally closes the space between them, Brittany smiles and thinks _yes_.

That's exactly what Mondays are.

Monday's are beautiful.


End file.
